


Subconscious(Monsters)

by kaumana



Category: Sam & Cat (TV), Victorious, iCarly
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-21
Updated: 2017-08-07
Packaged: 2018-04-16 12:39:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 43,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4625655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaumana/pseuds/kaumana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You've been lucky enough to have gotten shoved into love twice in your life. That's more than most people. Yet, nothing can be easy for Sam Puckett. It's always got to be difficult. But for every action, there is a reaction. And with cause and effect comes change. (Alternate title: Monsters.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. AA

They lied. The movies, the books, the television- they all lied. When you fell in love with someone, their touch didn't jolt your hand, their smile didn't make your heart stop or beat slowly and fast at the same time. What does that even mean? And any butterflies could be easily rid of with a burp. No, love sneaks up on you, and sometimes you don't even realize it's there. It's more like a battery- the power source that fuels you always doting on that person. It's like you suddenly stop having control of your body and it just does whatever will make the person happy. And the worst part is that you don't even mind. You're in control of being out of control.

You wished that what the media said were true. You wished it had been as electric as they say- that way you would have been able to avoid it.

But no, you had no idea. And you would've stayed clueless, had it not been for that one day. A day ordinary enough, like any other day: with you sitting by the counter, frowning at your laptop, wishing that dumb internet school couldn't tell when you used Zaplook to cheat. And she sat on the couch with her real homework sat in front of her. She almost mirrored your frown, except yours was in anger and hers was more set in confusion.

At some point you decided to give up and you found yourself staring at her. Not really focusing on anything but your eyes just lay on her frame. Studying the creases and lines in her face like the answers to your homework were hidden somewhere in there.

Finally, she turned to you, but you didn't look away. Your eyes actually hadn't even registered she was looking at you. At least until she giggled.

"Hi?" was all she said, but she was smiling at you and you could feel a smile forming on your own face.

"Hey," you grinned. And you just fucking sat there, smiling at one another. It was fucking ridiculous.

That's when it hit you like ton of bricks. And more than figuratively, you felt like you had been slapped across the face with an actual brick. You tore your eyes away from her and slid out the stool.

"I have to use the bathroom." You declared and you winced. Since when did Sam Puckett announce herself like a child?

You rushed to the bathroom before your mouth could betray you any further. You closed the door firmly but quietly enough so it wouldn't raise Cat's suspicion and pressed yourself against it.

When did this happen to you? How did you miss her seeping into your bones? Why didn't you notice when your blood started to pump "Cat, Cat, Cat?"

"Fuck," you breathed. You should've let her get smashed in that garbage truck. But you couldn't, she had you even then. You were enthralled the second you caught her in the corner of your eye probably. It had to have been that fucking hair. It attracts so much attention. Stupid, stupid girl. You hated her for doing this to you. But you mostly hated how you didn't actually hate her.

With resign, you pushed yourself away from the door and crawled into the bathtub, probably to try and drown yourself.

"Sam Puckett, you sighed, "Only a badass until a girl with brown eyes bats them and smiles."

The cool porcelain felt good against your skin. It made you feel cold and silenced your body's incessant shouting at you. That was your one clue. Cat always made you feel too hot.

* * *

 The next thing you remember was being awakened by an urgent rapping on the door.

"Sam!" was the muffled cry that came from the other side. She almost sounded mad at you. "Sam! Are you stuck in the toilet?"

You slowly rose from the tub, her voice getting clearer as you made your way to the door.

"I know that when the door's closed, that means private but you've been in there for over an hour and that toilet's evil and I'm really worried so I'm gonna- I'm gonna break down the door!"

You were mad at yourself because of how cute you found her rambling and concern.

You yanked the door open suddenly, only wide enough so your face could be seen, and she gasped in surprise.

"Cat," you deadpanned. "The door wasn't locked."

"Oh," she looked down at the doorknob and then back up to you. Her eyes were shining and her voice was gaspy, like she was about to cry. And then you felt bad for making her worry.

"I just fell asleep in the bathtub."

She snapped up, immediately going from near tears to confused. It was incredible how quickly she could go through emotions, like one of those toys where you press the button and the thing inside spins and changes the face. She looked you up and down. You could almost see the cogs whirring in her head. You coughed to stop the butterflies before they got out of hand.

"What were you doing in the bathtub?"

You shrugged. "I don't know. Just sitting."

She paused, the cogs moved again. "Can I come in?"

You opened the door completely and looked at her expectantly. "It's a free country."

She smiled and walked past you, climbing in the tub eagerly. You lingered by the door, watching her, wondering if you could make your body stop feeling this way if you made a run for it now. The fact that you were thinking about it instead of just doing it showed you were already in too deep.

She began to flag you over, looking at you with that smile ever present. "Get in here, silly! This was your idea!"

You frowned at her. "Don't call me silly," you mumbled and dragged your body over to the bathtub, climbing in.

The cool sanctuary the bathtub had been a few minutes ago was now gone. Climbing in with Cat, your legs intermingling, it was like a sauna.

She stared at you, waiting for you to show her the magic of sitting in the bathtub and you were grumbling in your corner of the tub, trying to shrink into yourself, but staring back at her nonetheless.

You don't know why you let her in. You didn't know what you expected to do. Have a stimulating conversation in the bathtub?

It only set it in stone. You just did things for Cat without thinking, and then you wouldn't know why. The only reason had to be that you loved her. That, or you hated yourself. Maybe it was a bit of both.

"What were you doing in here?" She said, fortunately interrupting your thoughts that were threatening to engulf you and when you came up all you would see is red.

"Just thinking," you responded and her eyebrows knitted together, visibly unsatisfied with your answer.

"About what?"

"You." You breathed and no matter how hard you inhaled, it wouldn't come back- it was already in the air and she had already heard it. You squinted at her. "Wondering about what you would look like if you were bald."

Nice save, Puckett. You mentally high fived yourself.

She grabbed her head, defensively, gasping loudly. "Sam! You wouldn't shave my head!"

You exhaled sharply. "Oh, relax. Why would I shave your head?"

Her lips were poked out in a pout. "You don't like my hair." She whispered, running her hands through the red sea that sprouted from her head.

You leaned back in the tub, tossing your arms out to either side of it, and tilted your head back over the edge so you were staring at the ceiling. "Shut up. I like your hair. And it doesn't matter anyway." You bring your head back up to look at her. "You know you'd still be pretty even if I did shave your head."

At first, she didn't really respond, probably because she didn't know whether to be mad or take what you said as a compliment. Her eyes were still casted down but her defensive brushing became less frequent. Finally she met your eyes and withdrew her hands from her hair completely.

There was a short, not exactly uncomfortable silence, and once again you guys just smiled at one another.

"One time, my brother shaved all his hair off and everyone thought he was a cancer patient so they kept calling the hospital because he looked like an escapee."

"Oh my god, Cat." You threw your head back over the side.

* * *

 And that's what started the past couple weeks that had been the hardest of your life. If only you could go back to blissful ignorance instead of now trying to regulate your body temperature as you sit on the couch, Cat smashed up against you, clinging to you tightly as the teenager left alone in the blatantly haunted house decides to search for the source of that banging sound.


	2. The Messengers

Whose idea had it been to watch a scary movie in the first place?

Oh, right. The kids you had babysat that day. But now they were gone and it was only you and Cat in the dark, the screen of the television being the only source of light. You knew Cat wouldn't have the guts for a movie like this.

"We don't have to watch this, " you had said. But she insisted that the kids have their way and she would be alright. Although she looked queasy the whole time she was trying to convince you. You rolled your eyes and gave everyone what they wanted, but only because you didn't feel like discussing it anymore.

And now look where you are. You're positive Cat is trying to meld you into one person simply based on the amount of force she is using to smash her face into your armpit.

You're annoyed because you're burning. She's stealing all of your air.

You sigh loudly. "Cat."

She doesn't hear you.

"Cat," you repeat, louder this time and she removes her head from the cove she's made in your side. She peers at you intently, making sure not to catch anything that's happening on the TV in the corner of her eye.

"Hmm?" is her response, completely unaware of the problem.

"You know the kids are gone? We can turn this off now." Your voice has an annoyed tone in it, one that you appreciate. You don't want to sound too soft.

However, instead of welcoming your words like you assumed she would, her face becomes distraught. "No, Sam! I can do this! I can finish a whole scary movie, I'm not a wimp!"

You laugh drily at this, adjusting yourself so Cat is no longer leaning on you. She had started to give you a dead arm. "You haven't even been watching it!"

She frowns. "Yes I have!"

"From my armpit?" You keep laughing because you find yourself hilarious. Cat usually does too, but for some reason, at the moment, she continues frowning at you. You shrug defensively. "Come on, I'm just kidding."

Your words are enough to get her to stop frowning so vehemently, but she still doesn't look happy. "But didn't you want to see the rest of the movie?"

You shake your head. "I've already seen this."

"Oh."

Watching her, you begin to feel bad for questioning her determination. She looks particularly conflicted and you know you ruined some sort of promise she made to herself. It's like you can see her resolve crumbling.

"What if I tell you exactly what happens at the end? Then it's like you watched the movie."

Her face lights up. You can be pretty good at compromising when you want to be. It's just that most of the time you don't want to be.

"Kk!" She faces you enthusiastically and you take this as a signal to start your half remembered rendition of the plotline.

"Okay, so after this scene or whatever, she goes to the store and finds a newspaper clipping or something and it turns out that the guy that works for them is actually the dude who killed his family."

Her face twists as you tell the story, silently horrified. But you said you would tell her the whole thing so you continue on. "So he gets attacked by crows and then goes crazy and tries to kill everybody. He hits the one guy with a pitchfork... or a shovel. I don't remember. Anyway, then he attacks Jess's family. They all together try to hide and beat him up. He stabs the dad and then the ghost family pulls him into the mud and he disappears forever. The bad guy I mean."

She pauses. She appears to be processing the information, taking it all in. You burp. Too much popcorn. But you did have the whole bag to yourself, considering Cat absolutely refused. She didn't want to barf if the movie was gory.

At last, she speaks. "So… it's a happy ending?"

You shrug. Yeah, sure. Why not? "Yeah, I guess it's a happy ending."

"Yay!" She exclaims and next thing you know, she's throwing her arms around your neck, bringing you into a hug.

And just like that, you're on fire. Your reflex is to like karate chop or something but you don't do that. "Not a hugger!" You yell instead.

Not a hugger.

Not a hugger of Cat, no.

"Whoops, sorry!" she says, breaking away from you and you stand up right away as soon as you're free.

"Welp, I'm tired as chizz so I'm gonna go to bed." You say and surprisingly, you're not lying just to get away from Cat. You feel like you could pass out at any moment.

Why are you so tired? You didn't even do anything that vigorous today, at least as far as you can remember.

Eh, it doesn't matter. When Mama's tired, Mama's tired.

"Wait for me!" You hear from behind you but you're already collapsing into your bed. So soft. Too tired to even put on pajamas. Will fall asleep in jeans.

You examine Cat with tired eyes as she walks into your shared bedroom. "Cat, can you hand me my pajama pants?"

She huffs. "You never take out your own pajamas!"

You whine. Can't she see how tired you are? Why isn't she being nicer to you in your poor state? "That's because you're so good at taking things out of the drawer!"

You shove your face into the bed, muffling your voice. "Take pity on me! I'm so tired I can't even move my arms!" You give a lame attempt at sitting up but fall back onto the mattress. "See?"

She sighs, but you can hear the smile in her voice. "You say that every night."

And then, after a moment, you're greeted with the welcoming sound of a dresser drawer opening and closing. Everything goes dark as she drops your pajama bottoms on your head.

"Thank you! You're the best roommate a girl could ask for!"

She only giggles in response.

So you begin the wild and violent leg dance you do to get your jeans off and your pajama pants on with as little effort as possible. It barely takes you a minute. If laziness were an art form, you would have perfected it.

With a contented sigh, you shove yourself down into your covers.

And in that moment, I swear you were grateful for having such a fantastic bed.

You absentmindedly bring your eyes to Cat's side of the room, wondering if you can turn off the light. But you can't, she's changing into her pajamas.

You quickly turn away, instead focusing on the many objects you've stuck on your wall.

_Don't look, Sam. Don't look. Don't look, don't look, don't look._

It's different than when you change. You only change your pants and you wear boxers, which are basically like tiny shorts.

It's just different.

It's not like Cat goes completely commando in front of you. If she had ever done that, you don't think you would still be alive to tell this tale. You would have most certainly died.

But she does change her shirt as well as her bottoms. And underwear is a problem.

Yup, just keeping staring at this boy toilet on the wall like you've never seen anything so interesting in your entire life. What is that? Porcelain? Man, that is some shiny looking stuff. Though you don't remember ever cleaning it. The janitor must've shined it before you stole it. Good for him. That janitor's probably really good at his job. Wonder if he has a wife and kids. Bet if he does, when he gets home his kids are probably always like, "Why do you smell like toilet?" Wouldn't it be funny if his wife was like a fiery Hispanic woman with an accent? Yeah, that'd be pretty funny. She probably starts rambling in Spanish whenever she gets really upset.

The light goes off. You're in the clear. You feel safe to peek around to the room.

"Goodnight, Sam!" Cat's voice reaches you to from the other side of the room.

"Night!" You grunt back, slamming your hand on the light switch. No matter how many times you do it, sleep always feels fantastic.

* * *

You're being pushed over in your own bed. This force is curling up next to you, pressing into your back, breathing on your skin.

"Cat." You state.

Instead of responding to you, the form curls up tighter, as if it can hide from you in this small twin sized bed.

"Cat. What are you doing?" Your sleepy voice refuses to be anything but monotone so it sounds more like a demand than a question.

Cat unfolds next to you but still rests against your back. Her voice is small when she speaks, your slowly awakening ears almost miss it.

"I got scared in my bed so I came over here to lay with you. I tried to make myself small so you wouldn't mind."

You don't even have the energy to be angry. "Fine," you breathe. Whatever would let you get back to sleep. It's not like you were using the whole bed anyway.

She lets out a tiny sound of thanks and scoots even closer to you, though you doubted that was possible. She wouldn't be happy until you guys were like freaky conjoined twins.

Your eyes stay closed but now you can't sleep. All you can focus on is Cat's body pressed against your own. You can feel her breathing and it's the weirdest thing. You're not even hot, just unsettled.

You close your eyes harder. You were going to sleep whether you liked it or not.

Nothing happens for a few minutes and you can feel yourself beginning to drift off. Slowly returning to that dreamland where you could run in the fields of fried chicken.

That is, until Cat violently convulses behind you.

"Sam! Did you hear that?"

Dammit. The fried chicken will have to wait.

"Hear what?" You grumble, not moving whatsoever.

"That." She says definitely, like there's a giant explosion that you're missing or something.

You listen, although you still refuse to move, hoping if you keep your position you'll be able to fall back asleep quickly once Cat calms down.

Then you hear it. The slight sound of trees rustling and brushing against the windows in your kitchen. All completely, natural sounds. Less than nothing to worry about.

Cat gasps as it continues. "Ghosts."

"Great. Then us being in the same bed will definitely make it a lot easier for them to get us both." In your fatigue, you don't realize how bad of a joke that is until Cat is clawing at you.

"Sam! Ghosts are going to get us!"

You exhale noisily as you are ultimately forced to move from your sleeping posture. Turning to Cat, you place your hands on her shoulders.

"Cat, we're going to be fine."

She shakes her head forcefully. "But you said they would get us both!"

Damn. Now you really regret making that joke. Had you not made that joke, by now you might've been back to sleep, instead of getting up from your nice, warm bed like you are now.

You snatch a wooden sword you stole from a child down from the wall parallel to your bed.

"What are you doing?" She whisper-yells at you, incredibly concerned.

Now that Cat was being ridiculous with the whole ghost thing, you were going to have to do something equally ridiculous to make her feel better.

You also couldn't stand to see how frightened she looked.

You bring the sword back over to the bed to show Cat.

"You see this?" You say, displaying it in front of her.

She feebly nods at you.

"This is actually a ghost killing sword. I keep it just in case something like this happens."

When this is over, you're going to face palm yourself whenever you think of this moment because of how cheesy and nice you're being. But right now, you just want to make Cat not scared. "I'm going to go out there and kill all the ghosts before they come in here. See? I can protect you."

The worry comes to her face suddenly and abundantly, written all over her face. "But then they'll get you!"

You smirk. "I'll be fine. Did you know if you pull a blanket over your head and cover your whole body monsters and stuff can't get you?"

She shakes her head.

"Well, it's true. So that's what you're going to while I go in there just in case I miss any."

Without delay, she brings the blanket over her head, her face disappearing. You stick your face underneath the blanket to continuing speaking to her, leaving her with final orders.

"Okay so stay in here while I go kill the ghosts."

You wait for some sort of confirmation that she understands but nothing happens and it's too dark to see what she's thinking.

"You're so brave." Comes the disembodied voice from where you know her body lay. And you're actually grateful that you can't see one another because your face is suddenly really warm.

You're fucking blushing.

This has never happened.

You have been called reckless before. Even dangerously sure of yourself. But never brave.

You yank yourself out of the blanket, away from Cat and her evil mind control.

"I'll be right back," you grunt and leave the room quickly.

Once you're in the hallway, you go about moving things to make as much as noise as possible. As if you were fighting a horde of ghosts.

To make it more convincing, you yell and grunt at random intervals. "Get out ya dumb ghosts!" You say, with a push of the couch.

You knock on the walls, move appliances and little random things, trying to generate a sound of struggle. "I'll never let you get Cat!"

This is stupid. This is so very stupid.

Yet you still feel compelled to do it.

You pop your head into the bedroom. "Almost got them," you declare then go back to causing a ruckus. You drag the sword along the carpet. Yeah, about two more minutes of this and that should be a believable fight. At least you hope so, because you're running out of ideas to make noise.

After a jump or two, you think you should be good. That was definitely enough time to fight about five or six ghosts.

As an observer, I can objectively say everything you just did was very lame.

Walking back into the bedroom, you proclaim, "I got them all," in as heroic of a voice as you can muster. You close the door behind you just for good measure.

Cat sticks her head out from underneath the comforter. "They're all gone?" she asks.

You nod and she immediately jumps up and scurries over to the edge of the bed to meet you.

"Are you okay?" She probes as you start to crawl into bed and she searches your arms as if you would have some sort of battle scars.

"I'm fine." You place the sword at the head of your bed and turn to her with the last ounce of energy you have left. "I'm gonna put this right here, just in case."

She nods and you finally left yourself fall into your blankets. You feel like you could tear up, you're so happy to be back in bed.

Cat leaves the foot of the bed and lies beside you, her head resting on your (accidentally) outstretched arm.

You're so tired, you could fall asleep instantly, and you should have done it by now, but she's just staring at you and you can't close your eyes.

"Thank you," she says, and her voice is quiet like it was a secret for only your ears to hear.

And she's gazing at you, in that way she does that you can't describe, with that stupid smile. Like you're amazing or something, or this great person deserving her admiration. Like a fucking knight in shining armor.

You almost forget who you are and feel like someone who can touch things without destroying them.

Almost.

"I'm not a good person," you suddenly utter. It comes from your mouth without your permission, trying to dispel any ideas Cat might have about you. It comes from somewhere far down in your brain that you usually keep quiet. "I'm only nice to you."

Her face instantly changes in protest. "You're good!"

You smile to cover up how shitty you actually feel. She looks to be almost offended and confused, like she can't believe you would say that about yourself. But that's only because she hasn't known you long. Once she does, she'll see.

"Go to sleep, Cat."

You turn over on your side, once again, your back to her. You can't face her. Not until you can stop the words that have become monsters from crawling up your throat.

You should really get to sleep. All this staying up is making you crazy.

Yet you can't actually fall asleep. You're annoyed again. And as always, it's because of Cat. It bothers you that you're in the same bed but there's a space between you. You can't feel her. You want to punch yourself in the face for being bothered by this.

Silence fills the room though you're only occupying a small part of it. You float into a weird awake-but-won't-be-able-to-remember-the-last-five- minutes-that-have-passed limbo. You wonder if Cat has fallen asleep yet.

"Sam,"

Nope. Still awake.

"Why should you have to be nice to everyone?"

You don't know what she means. Typical. The girl speaks in riddles.

"Huh?"

"You don't have to be nice to everyone."

You snort. "What? Says you. You're nice to everyone."

"Yeah, but that's because I'm me. I'm Cat. And you're Sam. And we're Sam and Cat. And that's all we need to be."

You choke on your spit like a loser. You've got nothing to say. And as you feel her cuddling up to you, you begin to think this girl understands a lot more than people give her credit for.

You know she's fallen asleep already. You feel like maybe you could follow her.

* * *

_You will drag Cat down. You will destroy her._

This voice speaks to you in your sleep. It follows you as you walk along the empty and dark streets of Seattle.

_Or, she will leave you before you can._

You scan the nearest alleyway but see no one. Just blackness ringing back at you. It seems to be pulsing, winding closer to welcome you inside.

"Hello?"

_Carly said she loved you and she still left you. She had to. She had to better herself. And the only way she could do that was to get rid of you._

You face the inky and suffocating black of the alleyway. Even in dreams, Sam Puckett does not run. You flip open your pocket knife. You fight.

_Your own mother doesn't even like you. She shipped Melanie away so you couldn't ruin her. She knows what you're capable of. Of your hands that only break._

"Come here, you piece of shit."

It's like trying to fight an octopus, with millions of hands reaching out, grabbing you. You're swiftly wrapped in it, being crushed. Your knife does nothing.

_Do you think Cat will love you and everything will be fine? That suddenly you'll know what to do with your life and you'll be able to keep her? That she won't go once she sees you can't do anything? Make anything?_

Twisting tentacles around your neck, it's like staring into a void, nothing gazes back at you. Where'd your knife go?

_Carly said she loved you all the time. Sometimes even whispered it with her hands digging into your skin, and she's still gone. In Italy. Far away from you._

_Melanie's far away from you. And so is your mother. She was never near._

_And soon Cat will be too._

Have you ever been able to see? Has this void always been closing over your eyes and swallowing you whole? Where is your knife?

Where is your knife?

You shoot up, sitting upright in your bed. Your heart beating rapidly fills your ears and your chest heaves with weighty breathes. Your hands are clutching the fabric on your bed, lost in search of a fallen tool.

You feel a gentle touch on your arm and you hear your name spoken softly, so softly you wonder if it's still coming from your dream.

You struggle to stop your eyes from frantically searching the darkness in front of you. With strain, you bring them down to whatever's touching you.

You forgot Cat was in your bed.

You hastily tear your eyes away, embarrassed. "Sorry, Cat," you grumble.

She shakes her head, refusing your apology but also causing you to glance back at her.

Her eyes are absolutely cognizant when they meet yours. You've never seen this face before. It disarms you. Like she can see whatever you saw, like she knows whatever you saw. There's no sympathy in her face to make you angry, simply understanding.

"I can protect you too," she breathes.

Now, it might be because you're so fucking tired and you're not thinking clearly. Or it could be that it's three in the morning and that's when night stretches out forever and promises it will never end, and everyone is transported somewhere where nothing that happens is real.

Whichever the reason, you find yourself hiding your face in Cat's neck and wrapping your arms around her waist, submerging yourself into her.

She doesn't say anything to make you feel small. Her fingers walk up and down your spine.

You're pulled down into a red, dreamless sleep almost immediately.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You COULD leave a comment telling me how much you like this story. I won't be mad. I promise.  
> -Kaumana


	3. SPACE - THE FINAL FRONTIER

Cat wakes up before you do.

Which is no surprise, since her alarm screeches Pocketful of Sunshine to which she quickly responds. You've never had a particular disdain for that song, that is, until now. When it's blaring into your eardrums.

"Cat, turn that off," you grumble in your half sleep. Her back is to you but you know her phone is in her hand. Natasha Bedingfield is too close for it to be any other way.

However, instead of responding to you, Cat makes an attempt to get up and prepare herself for the day. I say attempt because immediately, almost as if by instinct, you slink your arms around her waist and pull her back down to your bed.

She makes a sound of surprise and you're surprised too because you didn't know you were going to do that. It's probably because the half of your brain that would scream SAM NO WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING is still asleep.

God, you even cuddle aggressively.

"Sam, I have to get ready for school!" You can tell she isn't quite sure how to respond because although her voice is in protest, she doesn't put up a fight. Maybe she thinks you're trying to smother her and she's trying to be calm so you'll let her go. Like a snake.

"Stay. Skip school. It's storming outside anyway." The words are forming before you have a chance to think about what you're saying. It's dangerous for you to be up this early.

"It's not raining…"

You open your eyes for the first time and look towards the window. Huh. Look at that. It isn't raining. That always had a 90% chance of working when you lived in Seattle. You still weren't used to the arid desert temperature of California.

"Huh. Look at that."

Cat's cautious voice disrupts your contemplating of the weather. "If you want me to stay… I can?"

She says it like she's asking your permission to be okay with staying.

For your answer, you huddle closer and she relaxes, leaning back into you. You don't mind having her ridiculous amount of hair in your face. It smells nice, like her. You wonder if you could drown in it. Right now, you wouldn't necessarily mind. You just want to be close. So close-

_OH GOD SAM NO WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING_

There it is.

You jolt back as if Cat suddenly became electrified. In your head, she might as well have.

"Actually, go to school. Don't want your Nona calling me up for being a bad influence or nothing." You shrink away and back into your blankets, cutting yourself off from any further conversation.

It's a while before she moves. You feel her turn over and you know she's staring at you but you have nothing to say. You don't know what you could say. Something like, "I'm actually in love with you but I don't want to be but I forgot I didn't want to be but I just remembered?" Yeah, that would definitely go over well.

"Okay," is all that leaves her mouth when she at last succeeds in getting up from your bed.

You think you hear disappointment in her voice but you know it's something you're making yourself hear. She's probably relieved to have escaped your trap.

Hey, at least there's more space on the bed this way.

* * *

SPACE- THE FINAL FRONTIER

About fifteen minutes passed during your weird cuddle session, if you can even call it that, and you don't really think that much of that amount of time until you're being disturbed from the sleep you had just started to fall back into.

"Sam! I'm going to be late if I go on my bicycle!"

Ugh, when did it get so bright in this room? You cover your eyes with your hand so you're able look up at her.

"So?" You don't see what any of that has to do with you. Whatever last night's sleep had done to you with overreaching effects into this morning is gone, and you're back to your old mean self.

"I need you to give me a ride to school on your motorcycle!"

No, that means you have to get up. You can't. Say no, Sam. Say no. NO, CAT.

But it is technically your fault that she might be late in the first place.

You don't want to be reminded of why.

"Ugh. Do I have to?"

"Yes, you do! It's your fault I'm going to be late because you wanted me to st-"

Alright, that's enough.

You fly out of bed faster than you've probably ever moved this early in the morning. "Okay, okay! I'll take you! Just gimme a sec."

"Thank you so much, Sam!" She hugs you and you're about to repeat yourself for the millionth time but she lets go before you have to and skips merrily out of the room.

She's like a fairy. A dang fairy that thinks "not a hugger" means she can still hug you but for shorter amounts of time.

"Bleh," you still say in return, sticking your tongue out. You grab your nearest pair of jeans off the floor. Throwing your pajama pants carelessly, unintentionally filling up the vacant spot on the floor you just made, you shove your legs into the jeans. Your foot gets caught.

Great. There's a hole in the knee.

Oh well. You take your leg out and try again, this time getting your foot in the appropriate hole.

You grab a black sweater whose home was once also the floor and pull it over your head. It is much too big for you and hangs off your body. The collar is ripping off in some spots as well as the cuffs and the sleeves. But you refuse to throw it away. It's your favorite.

Remembering that you have a task to complete, begrudgingly no doubt, you start to head out of the bedroom but something makes you pause at the foot of your bed.

"I'm forgetting something..."

You rack your brain for what you could possibly be missing but to no avail. It must not be important.

But then it hits you.

"Oh yeah, shoes."

Maybe it's not exactly safe for you to operate a motorcycle this early in the morning. You nearly walked out of the house without shoes, your brain can't be prepared to operate a moving vehicle of death.

"Sam! Hurry! I'm going to be late!" Cat calls to you from the other room.

"Oh, put a sock in it! I gotta get my shoes on, okay?!"

And you voice is hard when you speak. But you think such soft things about her. And you hate yourself for it.

It had taken two years for you to even let Carly in. And then you loved her for eight more before you could fathom saying soft things aloud to her. But here was Cat, she had sneaked in your skin and you couldn't cut her out. No matter how sharp the knife you used to scratch. She would trespass further into your ribcage every time you tried, making marks with her small feet. Leaving tracks all over your insides, stealing your blood and replacing it with her breath. God, you hated her.

You quickly slip your feet into a pair of Doc Marven's and don't even bother to tighten the laces. Or put socks on. Socks are SO hard to put on, and you really just don't have time for it.

"I'm comin, I'm comin!" You yell as you're finally somewhat prepared to take Cat to school.

Cat is staring at you impatiently and when you grab your keys, you give her a look like you've been waiting for her the whole time.

"What's the hold-up? Come on."

* * *

Despite all the evidence that would prove otherwise, you make it to Hollywood Arts completely safe. Eventually, during the ride Cat stopped being mad at you for almost making her late and fell right back into your motorcycle ride routine. The one where she huddles closer to you until her head is on your shoulder and, ever since your radio broke, gently sings whatever song is in her head at the time. It used to bother you. Or, at least, you used to pretend it did, but now you just let her go about her business. You quite enjoy it actually. You get why they keep her at that school. She may not be the brightest student they have but she's certainly the most stunning. If just her singing to herself was amazing, you bet actually hearing her belt out must be something crazy.

But today she just hummed a melody, a melody you had heard her hum before sometime recently. It didn't sound like anything on the radio. And if it was, why wouldn't she just sing the lyrics?

"What song is that?" You had demanded. You've always been one for getting straight to the point. A poet you'll never be.

But she simply stopped humming, mumbled something about it being for school, and stayed quiet for the remainder of the trip. You were left to wonder if you had made her angry again.

And, back in present time, you're continuing to be as charming as ever.

"Alright, we made it to your freak school." You proclaim proudly.

She either doesn't hear your comment or is used to your disagreeableness because she gets off your bike without a scolding remark. She also doesn't rush to the building, like you assumed she would because of how urgent getting there seemed earlier, but lingers near your bike. She faces you, absentmindedly placing her hands on the handlebars, right on top of your hands. You grip the handles tighter without thinking.

"You'll come back for me?" She asks.

Ugh, you totally forgot you would have to pick her up from school as well since she is without her bike.

Doesn't she have any friends that could take her home? You bet all of these fancy rich kids have cars. Why couldn't she ask one of them?

But she's staring straight into your eyes and you know she's depending on you. She's trusting you to not leave her stranded here. Trusting you. Maybe she is dumb.

"Whatever! Just text me like ten minutes before they let you out," You shoulders shrug violently in defeat, followed by you throwing your hands in the air.

"KK! Bye, Sam!" Her smile bursts onto her face and once again she is wrapping her arms around you. She's hugging you without realizing that you're about ten seconds from falling off your bike because of her pulling. You're going to flip right over the handlebars. The same bars that are currently digging into your abdomen.

"Cat. Bike." you grunt, hoping she gets the message.

She must have because she releases you. "Sorry! I should go, I'm going to be late."

"Yep," That wasn't the only reason you gave her a ride or anything. But there she goes, lingering again, just staring at you. What does she want?

"Bye, Sam."

You chuckle, you drove her all the way up here and she's still going to be late. "Bye, kid."

She finally leaves and walks toward a bunch of annoying looking kids but not before turning back to you once more and waving. "Bye, Sam!"

"You're gonna be late!"

The group she entered usher her in, which is good, because without them, you don't think she would've ever made it inside. You laugh to yourself as you pull out of the parking lot.

That girl is ridiculous.

And yet you still like like her.

So you're more ridiculous.

That's a tough pill to swallow.

* * *

At last, you're home.

That same home with your comfy bed that you're planning on sleeping forever in.

Now with 100% less redhead.

You catch your reflection as you're about to go in the slide doors.

Look at you, with your boots and holey apparel. You look like you would kick a man's door in. And then would kick him straight in the face. You look like you could overthrow the government.

There has never been a more spitting image of grunge in the entire universe.

Remember when you used to wreck shit and didn't care what anybody thought? Let's go back to that. Before babysitting, before Cat. Heck, even before Carly. When it was just Sam Puckett and the urge to fuck shit up.

Yeah, give yourself the horns. Today, you are punk rock.

You slam open the door to your apartment with a rejuvenated sense of self. You toss your keys into the bowl by the front door. Or, in more honest terms, you throw them in the general area of where you think that bowl is.

Now is a good time to get started on your cyber school since you're already awake.

Just kidding. Screw school today! You're too punk rock for school.

The only thing you're going to do is find that pearpod home in your mess of clothes and plug that sucker in, turn it up to eleven, and rain the punk rock down on all your neighbors.

Putting faith in your pearpod, you hit shuffle and fortunately The Clash comes on. It's like it knows you came here to start fires and break guitars.

Though, you're not actually going to break any guitars. Those things are expensive. And what if you want to play one later on?

But check out this crazy air guitar you're strumming up. If anyone were watching they'd be blown anyway.

Your pearpod gets the idea and stays in the mood, blasting everything from The White Stripes to NOFX to the Ramones.

Aw man, you just _have_  to stand on top of the couch for this solo. You contemplate trying to make the jump to the island in the kitchen but ultimately decide you don't want to risk smashing your face into a stool.

But that's fine, walking and then hurriedly climbing onto the island is also punk rock.

Now that you're up here you realize it's not big enough for a powerslide, but you can still drop to your knees and pretend you did anyway. After you kick those plastic cups right off, that is.

You have to go vandalize something, you  _need_  to. This music is putting you in the mood for nothing else. You should go burn a flag or kick down a fence, ruin somebody's day or something!

This whole punk rock thing is really working out for you. Making you believe you're badass again, putting fire back in your veins. You are domesticated no more!

That is, until Ke$ha comes on. You move to skip it but, you realize, Ke$ha is punk rock in her own way, so you let it play.

If you weren't too busy basking in your own excellence, you might've caught on to what particular Ke$ha song it was from the first five seconds and would've been able to save yourself from the following mishap.

_My heart booms at the speed of light_  
_But the exit signs always on my mind, always in my sight._  
_I can say that I really want to stay,  
_ _But the devil inside always wins the fight, always gets his way._

You still have the opportunity to turn back now.

But instead, still not listening, you rip open the fridge. All you're thinking about is that there better be meat in there because you're hungry. And vandalism requires sustenance that can only be provided by meat products.

_There is something that I gotta say._  
_It's disgusting, how I love you._  
_God, I hate it. I could kill you._  
_Cause you're messing up my name._  
_Gotta walk my talk my fame, but I just want to touch your face._  
_It's disgusting._  
_It's disgusting, how you changed me._  
_From a bandit to a baby._  
_Thinking about gotta change my name,_  
_If I'm gonna walk this walk of shame._  
_Look at what you do to me.  
_ _It's disgusting._

_Wait a minute_ , you begin to think. At last the words are resonating in your head. But not in a good way. The ham you were a moment before scarfing down your throat hole falls from your mouth.

This song, this song is about you.

_My mind blinks like a traffic light._  
_It's green and red and stop and go. Changing all the time._  
_And it makes me scared, that I haven't loved.  
_ _That it's still right here, more or or or less._

_Stuck out in traffic, I gotta go my own way._  
_My head is slipping, too intense I need an escape  
_ _I'm seeing stars and there is nothing more than I hate, baby._

Ke$ha stalked you before she wrote this song. You're sure of it. She wants you to see how lame you've become.

_Chapter by chapter, I'm falling faster and faster,_  
_Becoming manic and magic it's so romantic I panic, oh._  
_Hit the eject button but it must be stuck, something's up.  
_ _What did you slip into my drink? Baby._

_It's disgusting, how I love you._  
_God, I hate it. I could kill you._  
_Cause you're messing up my name._  
_Gotta walk my talk my fame, but I just want to touch your face._  
_It's disgusting._  
_It's disgusting, how you changed me._  
_From a bandit to a baby._  
_Thinking about gotta change my name,_  
_If I'm gonna walk this walk of shame._  
_Look at what you do to me.  
_ _It's disgusting._

She's right. Ke$ha is right. The only way you can stop this is to kill Cat. You never gave her permission to make you fall in love with her. It's only fair.

Like you could though. You could plan to throw her off your bike on the ride home, but as soon as you would see her smiling at you, all that would be tossed out the window. She would say something romantic like, "I didn't think you would actually come back," and then you would pull her onto the seat and ride off into the sunset.

You don't even deserve the Puckett name anymore.

_Oh, it's disgusting_  
_Oh, it's disgusting_  
_Look at what you do to me._  
_Oh, look at what you do to me._  
_It's disgusting.  
_ _Disgusting._

Oh god. You're not punk rock at all.

You sprawl out overdramatically on the carpet next to the couch. Just let you die here. If God is real and merciful, he will strike you where you lay.

That stupid, stupid girl. With her dumb red hair that's not even natural. And those stupid faces she always text you at random intervals that definitely don't make you smile at your phone. You could just punch her stupid face with your stupid face and hold her dumb hand. And then maybe hold her dumb body as she tells you about her stupid day that you DEFINITELY don't care about.

It's not even the fact that you fell in love, just why Cat? Why now?

With Carly it made sense.

But Cat is so… Cat.

You make yourself sick.

But she makes you sicker.

Lovesick.

OH GOD.

I think I just threw up in my mouth a little.

You have to do something with yourself. Like now. You have to get up off the ground before you become a puddle of self-loathing.

You slap your pearpod off haphazardly and drag yourself to your room. There's got to be something you can do in there.

You walk in and the first thing your eyes are drawn to is Cat's brighter than the sun side of the bedroom. You want to tear up everything there and throw her things all over the place. You're so angry with her.

But if you did any of that, the look on her face would break you into a million pieces. And that makes you even angrier with her. You'll be surprised if you don't punch her right in the face as soon as you see her.

With a huff, you push yourself to your side of the room and dig through your pile of miscellaneous items. Something in here has got to get your mind of that redheaded devil.

Megaphone? No. Fake mustaches? No. A stolen handheld game? No. Old Inside Out Burger bag, boxing gloves, a lawn decoration you stole out of spite, mini flamethrower, jackhammer, skateboard, drumsticks, NOTHING. Nothing to occupy your time and mind space.

Wait, a second. Your eyes are drawn to something at the bottom of the pile.

Your old sketchbook! You can't remember the last time you used this thing. Probably not since you left Seattle. You remember when you first opened it though. It was actually in the store, before you had even bought it. You drew a pretty unflattering picture of Fredwart and that's when the manager got all riled up and demanded you pay for it. It was a good thing Carly bought it before you made good on your threat to shove the book up his nose.

This is it. This is your thing to do for the day. Not only are you getting your mind of off Cat but you can also quiet that slowly creeping thought of being useless.

You run to Cat's side of the room to steal a pencil (since yours are strewn everywhere and most of them are not even sharpened) and then jump onto your bed with newly acquired pencil and sketchbook in tow.

Alright, this is your time to draw something amazing. Dust off your skills, dazzle some people.

You open to a fresh page and stare at it for maybe .3 seconds before your hand starts moving by itself. Dark lines throwing themselves to paper.

You let your mind wander and don't focus too hard on what this sketch is going to be. It could be a landscape, or maybe the shitty view from your old room, or maybe even fried chicken, or maybe-

Fuck.

The lines and shades come together and it's her face starting to stare back at you.

You rip the offending drawing from your book and crumple it up, finishing by throwing it far, far away from you.

Okay. Time to start over, a new page, a blank slate. You get to work.

Fuck!

Again? Seriously?

Once again, the drawing is crinkled into oblivion.

Okay, this time you're going to start drawing with a particular purpose in mind, that way your brain can't go… other places.

Hands are always hard, you can never practice hands enough. That's what you're going to do, draw some hands.

You're halfway through completing a hand (that looks pretty good if you say so yourself) and you don't know how you know but you know it's her hand.

You're positive you've never even looked at her hands. You've had enough. You fling the sketchbook back into the pile it came from and throw yourself on your bed in defeat.

You're so disappointed in yourself.

You were supposed to be better than love with someone so sickingly sweet.

Well, now you're definitely going to turn into a puddle of self-loathing, except this time in your bed. At least it's comfier here.

You don't know how long you lie there.

You're considering pleading "Why me?" to the uncaring world when you feel your pearphone vibrate. You hope it isn't Cat.

That would be worse than the call coming from inside the house.

You bring your phone out of your pocket and into your line of vision. You see one of those little letter icons at the top of your screen that you recognize as meaning you got an email.

Email? Who sends emails in this day and age? And who would be emailing you?

And what does the phrase day and age even mean?

You hope a crazed fan of iCarly hasn't found your information. Again. You've already had one stalker in your life and that's one too many.

Or it could be some spammer sending you some super crazy virus that, as soon as you open the email, will flood your phone with bizarrely specific Latino midget horse porn, leaving your phone practically unusable.

Eh, what the heck. You figure you have to find out one way or another. Whatever it is, it'll be better than moping in your bed.

You click the non-threatening image of the neatly folded letter, hoping that there is no evil lying beneath the creases.

It takes you to an interface that you aren't really familiar with, considering how little you check your emails. But you do make out one thing. And that is that the first email, or should I say last since it is the most recently received, is from Carly.

You're already opening the email before you consciously register her name in your head. It's only been a month since you last spoke. How could you forget that the only emails you get are from her, given that texting from Italy to where you are is too expensive?

Your brain races into overdrive, ignoring the speed limit, and you peculiarly feel like you've done something wrong. Like you're back in Seattle and you're about to read Carly scolding you via text. You forget that you lie in a nice bed in a warm apartment where the only thing unforgiving is the Californian air.

_Pearchat with me! :P_

is all the email says but it's enough to flood you back to your surroundings with the recollection that you can't shimmy your way up a fire escape and be at Carly's apartment. Yet, there is still the heaviness that sits in your stomach accusing you of wrongdoing.

You close the email and get up to grab your laptop. Except what you do can't really constitute as getting up considering that you just stretch the length of your body until you reach your nightstand. At which point you open the drawer there, take out your laptop, and resume position on your bed. You don't bother to close the drawer. That way you won't have to open it later to put your laptop back. See? Thinking ahead. Genius.

You open your laptop and are greeted by the Splashface homepage. You had been watching videos of old people falling off of miscellaneous things to entertain yourself. There's nothing better than it, they fall in slow motion but can do nothing to stop it. It virtually brought you to tears, after laughing so hard you couldn't breathe.

You're almost tempted to watch more but you've already wasted enough time. You exit the browser and open the pearchat program. Carly's username is the first on your contact list, she's really the only person you talk to using this thing anyway. You both had made it a goal to webchat at least once a month.

You double click her username and as the program begins to bolster a dial tone, the spit in your mouth because too much to swallow. You fingers tap nervously but quietly on your keyboard as you wait for an answer.

Jeez, what is up with you? When did you get so sensitive?

Thankfully Carly answers before you have the chance to tear yourself apart. Her face fills your screen and you become a tiny box in the corner.

"Hey, Sam!"

And you're instantly relaxed because she's so excited to see you, smiling so big you swear the brightness on your computer has gone up by three notches.

"Hey, Carls." A goofy grin slowly spreads onto your face.

She becomes slightly serious, almost sad, staring at you for a moment. "I miss you." She says finally.

"I miss you too." You stare back at her and it feels like someone took your stomach and put it in a pan on a low sizzle.

Don't get the wrong idea. Yes, it is now Cat that swims through your veins, but that can't offset the reality that you loved Carly for half of the time you've been on this earth.

You never know the right thing to say at the right time so your life is filled with bouts of staring. You're thankful for what you assume are expressive eyes because you're always allowed to get away with it.

Though at this particular time, there is also another reason for your staring. You're both trying to take each other in, determine how much the other has changed in the past month.

You watch Carly, waiting for her to morph into something different right in front of you and you won't be seeing the same easy face containing much more alive eyes.

She looks tired. Though she looked tired the last time you had spoken. The school was really taking a toll on her. The curriculum was much more advance, she had told you.

At least the sun was getting to her, she isn't as ghostly pale as you remember. Her skin has taken a tan tinge to it. Though, she's nowhere near the bronzeness of your current roommate. Though in her defense, Cat is Italian, whereas Carly is… whatever she is.

You think that would've been a question you had asked at some point.

But isn't it funny how your brain always goes back to Cat?

After what seems like an eternity, Carly's the first to say something.

"You seem… different." She paused, looking for the right word.

You shake your head jovially but her words have broken you from your calm. "What are you talking about?"

She shrugs her shoulders and spins slightly in her chair, looking contemplative. "I don't know. Just different like… less hardcore." She ends with a laugh.

Your eyes glint as a combative smile instantaneously finds its home on your face. "Psh, wrong! I'm definitely more hardcore! I'm gonna go rob a bank right now!" You wave your hands feverishly and move to get up from your bed, making a huge show of your pretend anger.

You're rolling out of bed and can no longer be seen by your webcam's tunnel vision when you hear Carly laughing harder. "Not like that!"

Acting offended, you throw yourself back on your bed and can once again see and be seen by Carly. "Then like what?"

She studies you, and you feel see-through. You hate that certain people can make you feel like that. You made your armor to be dense, not to allow spaces where girls with brown eyes can steal inside.

But with your transparent feeling, comes guilt. She'll see your heart. She'll see the groves that Cat has made. She'll hate you and you'll deserve it.

"You just seem more… responsible. Not as wild?"

The liberation you feel as her words break your train of thought is cut short by the words that come spilling out of your mouth, trying to deflect her from noticing your wickedness.

You should really try thinking more before you speak.

"That's because I'm basically forced to be now! Living with Cat is like living with someone that could accidently kill themselves at any moment! Sure, I'm doing the babysitting thing, but being with her is like babysitting all the time! I have to constantly make sure she doesn't burn the apartment down! She's so stupid, she's lucky I decided to stay. And I can't go five seconds without thinking about her because she's so dumb. I have to do everything for her-"

You stop yourself from speaking further because your words are beginning to reveal your true intentions. About how not stupid you think Cat is and how much you don't hate her.

You try to make yourself as solid as possible.

Carly looks amused by your rant. You were so focused on your own thoughts, you hadn't taken in her laughter and smiling during the whole ordeal.

You words had tricked her. How would she feel if she knew you were actually the one grasping for Cat?

"Hey, if I remember correctly for the short time you stayed with me, you're pretty demanding yourself! You're lucky she puts up with  _you._  You're no ball of sunshine either." Her remark is warm, not meaning to offend you, but it is true nonetheless.

She's right. You're annoying as shit too. You and Cat are peas in a fucked up pod.

You exhale sharply, "Whatever." Your brain hurts. It has never had to work this hard.

Carly smiles at your annoyance. "Sam, as someone that's known you for ten years, I reserve the right to say that. I say it with love!"

You exhale again in response.

She's getting a real kick out of this. "I'm just pointing out, don't be so hard on her!"

"Yeah, yeah." You lean rearward into your pillows. It's infinitely more comfortable. Your back had been getting sore from hunching over your laptop.

And just like that, you're both focusing on each other again. It wasn't much different than when you were dating. There was many a time you had spent lying in her bed, watching her face as you made small circles in her back with your thumb.

That's when swiftly, despite your best efforts to not care about that kind of stuff, you missed having a head on your chest as you fell asleep. In your mind's eye, if you glanced down, you know you wouldn't see the welcoming waves of brown, but the red that would blind your eyes if you looked too quickly.

You rub your eyes because you feel bad.

"So…"

The question retreats into your mouth. It has no right to.

You have no right to be afraid of the answer to the inquiry shivering in the back of your throat.

Carly looks intrigued and you take another go at pulling speech out.

"…have you like…" you shrug your shoulders, "met anyone down there? Is there anybody…?"

You trail off. This is embarrassing.

Wow, you  _really_  don't deserve the Puckett name anymore.

Softy.

Carly regards you seriously and Cat's stuffed animals suddenly become really interesting, and you focus on them instead of meeting Carly's eyes.

"Well, there was this guy…"

You had expected to fall apart. You thought you were dreading hearing something like that. But instead, you're filled with an odd sense of relief.

I guess, if Carly was trying to move on, you didn't have to feel so bad for wanting to tear Cat apart.

She's not finished speaking though. "But it was really weird. I feel like he was expecting something I couldn't give him."

That's still not too bad.

Her voice becomes staid. "Why? Have you…?"

This is when your stomach drops straight through your butt into the pits of the earth and to the heated center full of molten lava below.

You are shit. You are a piece of shit. A selfish piece of shit.

Remember that entrail I said plummeted to the middle of the earth? Well, now it's shooting up with a vengeance, making it's way to your throat where it shall stay and crush your efforts at verbal communication. If Carly were fluent in guilty swallows, she would've known exactly what you were saying.

You're considering that maybe twenty years have passed and Carly knows something's wrong, but in reality, it's only been about a second since she's asked the question.

Your phone vibrates and you pick it up without a thought. Anything to take your mind away from itself.

_sam! schoools almst over, come pick me up! :)))))_

Followed directly by a:

_that will be u if u dont stop eating sll that chicken lol_

An unauthorized smile paints itself on your face. "Cat," you say. It's an instinct, for those who aren't aware, for 21st century kids to inform someone of who texts them during a conversation. But Carly doesn't take it as that.

"What?"

And it's the tone of her voice that causes you to stop texting Cat back. Shit. She thinks you were answering her question.

Fuck. Uh… fucking fuck. Fuck.

Shit?

She's beginning to look despondent when you finally decide to stop fucking sitting there looking confused.

"No, I mean, Cat texted me."

The storm you had seen starting to form in her eyes quiets.

Well, now you're a liar too. Technically.

Half liar.

To further drive the point home that you didn't mean Cat as your answer, you roll your eyes in a irritated manner, finishing off with an aggravated sigh. "I have to go get her from school,"

"Oh." She nods her head knowingly. "How are those Hollywood Arts kids doing?"

"What the heck is a Hollywood Arts?" You don't know why Carly has suddenly decided to speak nonsense at you. None of what she said seems relevant to anything. She might as well have asked, "How many earthworms does it take to pull a cart?"

"The school that Cat goes to? And her friends? Tori, Andre, Jade and the rest of them?"

427.

More or less.

"Who?"

"We met them at that party we went to where we found out that jerk I was dating was dating Tori at the same time?"

She must be frustrated, watching your eyebrows furrow so much they must look like one big eyebrow. The monkey in your brain has yet to clap his cymbals together.

You remember the douche, mostly because you beat him up when no one was looking, and you remember eating tons of really good food at that party, but the rest? These made up people? She's gotta be lying to you. Cat doesn't have any friends. If she did, why would she always come straight home to hang out with you all the time?

Carly gives up, acknowledging her attempts are futile with a weary sigh. "You would remember them in they were chicken."

"I remember the chicken!" You exclaim triumphantly, thinking you got to the bottom of what Carly was asking you. That chicken was some of the best you have ever had. Parties always have the best food. It was the only reason you ever found yourself at them.

Now it's Carly's turn to shake her head at you, putting her hand on her forehead in mock stress. With a smile on her face, she asks, "What am I going to do with you?"

And with a smile on your face, you shrug your shoulders. "I dunno."

If only for a second, it feels as easy as it used to be. When you could talk about nothing with no heaviness. Before you had to complicate it by getting older.

However, that sensation is short-lived as the weight of parting comes and rests on your shoulders.

You're staring at one another again.

You both know that these webchats have to end at some point, so why is it still as hard every time?

"I guess I should go get Cat…" It comes from your mouth instead of a goodbye.

You both have already decided you would never say goodbyes. They're too difficult. They only stress how far apart you truly are.

"Okay. Be safe." Her eyes are sad again.

"I will."

You hate seeing her like this. It's like the distance is new to her every time.

But it's her own fault. You have to remember that and not feel guilty somehow.

"Don't want to be late… give her a reason to complain…"

She nods.

The program blares that ridiculous sound it makes when the call is ended. Like someone with a pull whistle just witnessed something sad.

You feel your phone vibrate and you think it's Cat asking why you aren't there yet, until you see the letter icon denoting an email.

You click the letter, letting it load as you shut your laptop and put it back in your drawer.

It's from Carly, of course. It says what you figure she was too choked up to say.

_I love you._

Your fingers are hammering back an "I love you too," that is not indicative of the anger that just rushed up into your stomach. It's a mixture of sadness and anger, because you're not really good at being sad, but boy can you get angry.

If she loved you so much, she would've never left.

Yes, you did work yourself up to encouraging her to leave by the vey end of it, but only because you had no other way to deal with it, she left you no choice. She was going no matter what you said. She made the decision all on her own, she didn't even ask you before she agreed. She has absolutely no entitlement to being wistful. No place to make you feel bad for not being there. She made the bed she now has to lay in and you had to get up from, and that's that.

But you still feel fucking terrible for not being there.

You made such a big deal out of her leaving, conjured a giant storm that followed her up the runway, and yet here you are, forgetting Carly in the scent of red velvet cupcakes.

You storm to the living room to pick up your keys from the ground. You want to punch yourself in the face and knock yourself unconscious. When did your brain get so complicated?

You're tearing the down the road toward to the school apparently named "Hollywood Arts."

The fact that your radio is broken is much more annoying without Cat and with a million different thoughts all fighting for space in your head. The sounds of the street only add to your annoyance.

"Watch where you're going, ya stupid boy!" You yell as you barely swerve past a teenager crossing the street during your green light. That's the problem with the kids around here, they think they own everything.

You are:

Sad because Carly left you

Mad because Carly left you

Guilty because you're mad at Carly

Guilty because you've fallen in love with Cat

Frustrated because you've fallen in love with Cat

Hey look! I've made a staircase out of your crazy emotions!

Whoa. Don't you think you're coming up on the school a little too quickly? Things are passing by pretty fast…

You're coming in too hot!

Slow down! You're going to get yourself killed!

...

...

...!

Whew. Nice brake turn. Glad you decided to stop.

You've scared everyone half to death. The students coming out of the high school don't know whether to come closer to view the badass on the bike or step away to avoid the madman on the bike. With how you're feeling, it should definitely be the latter. Unless they want some displaced anger up their nose.

Cat leaves the group of the same annoying teenagers from earlier and runs to meet you. They wave to you and you regard them curiously, but don't wave back.

She's upon you before you know it and she's trying to kill you. In any case, that's what it feels like because of the sheer recklessness and vigor that goes into what can only be referred to as an "attack hug." It's a good thing you had both feet flat on the ground, or she would've knocked you both down and your bike would've crushed you.

She finally pulls back from the hug but her arms stay linked around your neck. Her face is so close to yours you could… bite her nose clean off.

"Hi, Sam." she says and you gulp. She was the one running, but you're the one breathless. The position you're in is far too intimate for you to handle and the way she spoke to you, it was like she was saying something else, something more passionate and slow, something that deserved to be whispered.

She's inspecting you, her eyes beholding yours.

And that's when you come to the decision that brown eyes are to be made illegal.

They cloud your mind.

"Not a hugger." Thankfully sound comes out when you decide to move your lips. It's not very strong, but it's something.

She lets you go simply, without fuss.

You continue to stare ahead at the empty space when she moves from your vision.

Her climbing onto the back forces you to regain your strength to keep the bike steady.

"I'm glad you came back for me."

Her speaking forces your brain to regain its composure and be comprehensive.

"Yeah, yeah."

On that note, you peel out.

With Cat's body pressed against your own instantly evaporating all the stress from your muscles, the ride home is much more pleasant.

Too pleasant.

Ah fuck.

"Sam, why are you clothes so holey?" Cat asks, watching you put the kickstand up on your bike instead of going into the house like a normal person.

"It's called grunge. Look it up, kid. I'm thinking of rocking it from now on, so people already know what's up." You say in your best gritty voice impression, stomping your way to the apartment and throwing open the door since Cat still had yet to go inside. She follows once you go in.

She smashes into the island without delay, her eyes preoccupied with the pearphone that has suddenly appeared in her hands.

"What are you doing?" You turn to her, dumbfounded that she could walk into something that is always in the same place.

She looks up at you for a second and then clicks something on her phone. "Looking up grunge like you told me to." She holds its face to your line of vision so you can see what she was working on. "There's a wikihow article!" An accomplished smile rests on her face.

Now you're giving her an even more dumbfounded look. "You… you know that's just a figure of speech, right?"

Wait, now she looks doubly more dumbfounded than you. "No, it says it's a subculture."

Okay, enough of this dumbfoundedness.

"Nevermind." You stomp your way to the fridge (every movement is stomping when you're wearing Doc Marven's!). "I need a sandwich. Or seven."

While you're busying yourself with that, she twirls her way to the couch and places her backpack on the coffee table (every movement is twirling when you're Cat!). "I have to do my homework now! I don't think you need that wikihow article because you're already doing great from what I read!"

You set up your sandwich making station and Cat sets up her homework doing station. As you see her take out three or four papers, you begin to do your least favorite thing. Wonder. Wondering is terrible because usually the only way you can get an answer is by listening to a person talk and that is never a good time.

"Don't you go to an art school?" Darn it. You just had to ask.

She must be really focused on whatever she's doing because she only nods at you. "Mhmm."

Hey, that's not too bad! Your curiosity has been satiated  _and_ you didn't have to listen to a whole mess of talking!

"Then what homework could they possibly give you?"

Well you ruined it. You were so close to quiet sandwich eating time. But they say curiosity killed the cat. Or the Sam.

She rearranges the papers in front of her, putting them in what you assume is order of importance, or what should be completed first. "Well, they make me take math classes and stuff too." She begins digging furiously in her bag for some object, something she must really need.

"Mmf." You grunt in response, since at this point your mouth is full of the first of eight sandwiches you have prepared yourself. Yeah, you did originally say seven but you figured you might as well make it a nice even number. You know what they say, Even Sandwiches. Or something like that.

Cat pulls her face from out of her backpack, if simply to look completely bewildered for a second, draw her eyebrows together in all the more confusion, and then continue her hunt.

Why are you even watching her? You shove additional sandwich in your mouth in an effort to return your mind to its primary objective: eating. And your luck must be changing because it actually works. You go as far as to turn your back to her, leaning against the island as you indulge in sandwich heaven. Thinking of nothing other than the blessing of whoever came up with the idea of combining meat and cheese between bread.

Cat proclaims, "I must have left all my pencils at school!"

Cool. Whatever.

You continue eating sandwiches.

There's shuffling behind you as Cat must be getting up to make her way to your bedroom.

You continue eating sandwiches.

"Sam! What's all this paper doing on the floor?"

You drop your sandwich faster than you've let go of any food product in your entire life. You're sprinting into your room and you're screaming, "Hey! Hey, wait! Don't touch that!" because you know Cat has already got it in her hands because that saying had to be written about her.

In a panic, you snatch the ball of paper out of her hand (a little too harshly you'll realize in retrospect but she's used to you) and shove it into your mouth, destroying it so she'll never see the contents.

Her hands immediately go to her hips and she gasps at your behavior. She gives you a tiny reproachful slap on the arm, as if you were one of those kids you babysit. Except, now that you think about it, she never does that to the kids, only you. "Sam, you know paper isn't for eating."

You shrug your shoulders and make a go of grabbing all your failed sketchings off the ground, all while having the "tasting grosser by the minute" wad of paper chilling in your mouth.

Cat gapes at you, her disappointment reaching its peak when she spots something on your bed. "Have you been stealing my pencils?!"

You shrug your shoulders once again and dash out of the room. You dump all the paper into the trashcan in the kitchen, spitting the mashed up one in there as well.

You throw your head under the tap in the kitchen and turn it on, full blast, letting it splash into your open mouth. Paper wasn't the worst taste you've ever had in your mouth (you  _have_ eaten nearly rotten meat before), but you didn't necessarily appreciate the little flecks of paper that had decided to stick around on your tongue. Also, graphite was a weird flavor you weren't into experiencing any further.

The water pressure must be higher than you realize, because you don't hear Cat walk up behind you, only becoming aware of her presence once she places a hand on your shoulder. It surprises you, but you don't startle because you're too cool for that. You calmly turn the faucet off and face her.

Drawing a sleeve across your mouth to wipe away the excess water, you demand, "What?"

She looks a lot calmer than she did two minutes ago, almost sympathetic, which doesn't make sense since you did nothing to deserve sympathy. You can never understand what's going on in that girl's head and it's apparent on your face as your eyebrows meet again.

"You can borrow my pencils if you put them back when you're done with them," She utters like you're a child she's making a compromise with. Normally, this is the time where you would make a derisive comment about how you don't care, but you're still too muddled to say anything. "And I'm making meatballs tonight because paper is not a very nutritious meal and you should know that."

And with that she's walking back over to the couch to address her homework.

I think you just got reprimanded… but hey at least you get meatballs out of it!

But on the other hand, now you are without a doubt sure your brain stops working when Cat gets too close…

But then again, who needs a brain when ya got meatballs?

Meatballs!

* * *

With a stomach full of meat of the spherical fashion, you skip merrily to your bed, already clad in your pajamas.

Maybe you should eat paper more often.

Your blankets are swallowing you up and well, this is just great. Everything is great. You whack the light switch off and hasten down the path to sleep, embracing it wholeheartedly.

Nevertheless, your serenity is cut short when you feel the bed shift as Cat climbs in.

"Uh, what are you doing?" You flop over before she has a chance to fully get under your blankets, hoping you can stop this before it progresses further.

She ignores your efforts, settling close to you. "Keeping the ghosts away."

You sigh loudly, as you tend to do when around a certain person. "Cat, I already got rid of all the ghosts-" You don't get to finish what you recognize was an absurd sentence.

"No, these are different ones," She discloses earnestly, "These ghosts come at night when you're trying to sleep and tell you you're not good enough. They lived with me at my parent's house. They followed me here. I hoped they wouldn't…" She looks away from you, and you're caught off-guard by the somberness in her face. In spite of that, when she brings her eyes back up to meet yours, she gazes at you hopefully. "But if we stay together they can't get either of us!"

You nod slowly.

She knows about your demons.

You saw glimpses of them when Carly decided to leave. They chased you out of Seattle. Crossing the border, you had lost them for a while in a redheaded girl's benevolence, but you guess they followed you here as well.

Yet she said she had her own.

Why is Cat so familiar to you? Why does she always compel you to mull over things you'd rather not have cross your mind in a billion years? Why can't you just have a good night's sleep?

She makes you so serious. Soon you'll have no other option but to vibrate right out of your skin.

What is in the head of hers?

It would kill you if you didn't find out this exact moment.

"Um… you know that game you told me about?"

"Snarckledoodle?" Her voice is totally normal. It's like she has no idea of the severity of her words sometimes.

"No, the stupider one. Question and Answer?" You lie on your side.

She pouts at you. "You said that was just a conversation…"

"I know what I said. But we could play it until we fall asleep, or something."

"Kk!"

Although the words are practically bursting out of your mouth, you're struggling on what to say. You can't get air in to vibrate off your vocal cords and make sound.

"What are your parents like?"

You immediately feel Cat tense up next to you. She pauses, and it's weird because you usually can't get her to shut up. You're sure you've done it this time. You've said the wrong thing and now she'll never want to see you again. She'll kick you out of the apartment.

You're sure she's not even breathing.

You've killed her. You've killed the poor girl.

She buries herself in your blanket and a wave a relief rushes over you at her movement.

"They never really liked me." Her voice is muffled from the blanket that she has brought all the way up to her nose. Her eyes can still be seen but she isn't looking at you.

It's your turn to pause because you don't know what to say. You didn't expect her to say so little.

"What about your mom?"

You should have anticipated receiving a question yourself. That is the point of the game after all. You find yourself taking a deep, audible breath before answering.

"Yeah… she never really liked me either."

You both lay there in silence. Usually you can talk about your mom casually without feeling anything but watching an almost reflection in Cat forces you to feel a certain way about it. Her eyes are so faraway. You wonder if that's what you look like when you bring up your mom.

You wish she would say more so you weren't stuck thinking about the messed up parts of your own life. You had enough of that yesterday.

Maybe playing Question and Answer was a bad idea.

She simultaneously moves closer to you and sinks deeper into the blankets.

"They're close," she breathes.

She clings to your arm but you don't move away. Actually, despite your heart threatening to tear itself apart by beating hard against your ribcage, you place your free hand over hers.

"We'll be okay… uh, like you said," You clear your throat, regaining what little composure you have left. A lopsided grin fights its way onto your face. "Your ghosts will be too busy fighting my ghosts and they won't even remember we're here."

Cat smiles back at you, letting you know you've succeeded at your job of always making her feel better. And you can't help but feel better too.

Cat nuzzles her head into your shoulder. You settle yourself so that you're comfortable. There are no shifting blotches on the ceiling.

* * *

You're wide awake.

It's strange how once you're enamored with someone, everything they do becomes important.

Cat has fallen asleep on you. You can tell because her breathing is slightly heavier and deeper than before. And it's ridiculous how focused on this breathing you become.

Every inhale is like a Lakers game you can't turn away from and every exhale is a violent videogame. All your attention is devoted to Cat's sleeping form. It's like you suddenly forgot how sleep works and you're trying to study to maybe replicate the actions yourself.

You don't know why you find it so utterly beautiful. You want to touch her. Though not anything to disturb her sleep, just a noiseless hand on her cheek, wondering how she does that. How she becomes so beautiful. How a sound that's ultimately snoring can make your insides crash towards her, wanting to jump out your body, pining to be closer to her.

Yo seriously, fuck this.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Congrats!  
> *throws confetti in the air*  
> You made it through 10,000 words in one chapter. You're dedicated my friend. Well done.  
> -Kaumana


	4. Fish with Legs

You roll over and stretch out, taking over the entire expanse of your bed.

Wait a second. You shouldn't be able to do that.

You jerk your head up, glancing around. Cat is nowhere to be found. You grab your pearphone and check the time.

Ah. It's almost ten thirty. Cat must've gotten up for school without waking you up. Awesome.

Your slowly awakening eyes become aware of something bright pink in the corner of your eye. You grab it. Cat must've left you a note on your pillow. That, or she has a weird habit of writing in her sleep.

Bleh. It looks like a foreign language. Your eyes shouldn't be subject to reading this soon after waking up.

Okay, okay, blink. Blink again. Long blink.

Is it any clearer now?

No?

Bah. Doesn't matter. Whatever it is, it can probably wait.

You're about to throw the note off your bed and into the abyss that is your messy floor, where the chances of it ever getting read would be slim if any, when your brain spots a word that is always recognizable no matter what time of day it is.

Bacon.

You spring up like you've never heard of the word fatigue in your life. You scan the document quickly, only wanting to get to the important part. The bacon.

_Hey, Sam! I made you breakfast to make up for waking you yesterday!_

_Wait, stop! Don't run to the kitchen!_

You stop mid-sprint, your right foot dangling in the air. How did she know?

_I know you wake up whenever you smell bacon so I put your clothes_

_in front of the door to block the smell!_

_Move them first or you'll fall!_

_I hope you like everything I made for you!_

_XOXO Cat!_

Ah. It seems all of your dirty clothes (that were already on the floor) are bunched up to block the space at the bottom of your bedroom door, where the smell could leak in.

That's pretty clever on her part. There's definitely a brain in that head of her's, it just decides to work with the oddest things.

I would say you gingerly move the clothes out of the way but let's be honest you don't do anything gingerly. You kick away what you only see as obstacles and swing open the door with vigor only comparable to your hunger.

You can't get to the kitchen fast enough but when you do, you're met with a most conflicting sight.

There, on the counter, is what you had been promised. The bacon mentioned in the letter that Cat wrote. Yes, it is there. But it is almost microscopic.

Your measly three pieces of bacon, next to an equally disappointingly proportioned amount of eggs, sit on a tiny plate. The plate is so tiny. So tiny you can't even explain. SO TINY that you believe Cat has done this on purpose and wants you to starve. So itsy-bitSY TEENY-WEENY it must be breakfast for ants.

But then you notice it. You notice. It. IT.

A huge bowl with saran wrap covering it next to your baby breakfast.

You tentatively step closer.

For some reason, you're wary of whatever its contents may be.

You peek in the huge bowl through the clear covering.

THE HUGE BOWL FULL OF HEALTHY BREAKFAST.

THE EVIL GIRL HAS FILLED THE BOWL BIGGER THAN YOUR HEAD WITH FRUIT SALAD.

Instinctively, you push the threatening food away from yourself and huddle over your mini-breakfast.

Did she actually think you were going to eat that? Who does she think you are? Just because she wants you to eat healthier doesn't mean you have to.

She thinks she's so smart. She probably thought you would scarf down your bacon and eggs in two seconds and then, with your hunger growing from the tease of food, be forced to shovel the fruit salad into your mouth in one wild, blind action, realizing that it's actually pretty good, though you'll never tell Cat that and say you threw it in the garbage.

Wait.

That's exactly what happens.

You burp, tossing the bowl into the sink. Some things can't be helped.

Like the other dishes that you ultimately leave there because, well, you thought about putting them away, but then realized you're much too tired for that, and it's the thought that counts anyway.

You get up from the stool, yawning. Your legs drag you back to the bedroom where you decided you would continue your sleep. It's way too early and really, you had only gotten up to eat. Now that that was over, you had nothing keeping you awake. Right?

You're about to get back in bed when it starts staring at you menacingly. The idea you had that was so genius yesterday is now your biggest regret.

There, in your open drawer lies your laptop. The one that has schoolwork you should be doing on it and now, because someone's absentmindedness makes her forget to close drawers, was staring you in the face.

You walk over to your nightstand and put both hands on the drawer. You have full intentions to close it. And then pretend you never saw anything.

But, as you look at it, an uneasy feeling creeps into your stomach and it rushes to your hands making your fingers twitch and you're grabbing it out of the drawer and forcing yourself out to the kitchen table because ugh, you should really be doing your schoolwork. You manage to grab one of your notebooks and a pen off the floor as you make your way out the bedroom door.

You sit at the table and open your laptop, frowning the entire time.

You're also frowning when you type in your password to get on the internet school.

And you continue as you look at the list of assignments.

And dude, if frowning were an Olympic sport, you would've taken home the gold for USA.

You click on the first link and your screen is immediately filled with a video of a teacher explaining today's lesson.

Oh crap it's that one guy. That one teacher with the incredibly droning voice. The guy who sounds better suited to a job as a hypnotist and  _not_ the teacher at a school where you can't get in trouble for sleeping.

Speaking of sleeping, you're screwed. Because along with this guy's pendulum voice, the itis* finally hits you.

*For those of you that don't know-

It tis (eye-tiss)  _noun_ : The drowsy feeling you get after eating a large meal. Known also by its medical name, "alkaline tide."

Aw man, this plus that equals you being a mess with half-lidded eyes and an arm that can't keep your head propped up no matter how hard you try. Your other hand scribbles on your pad in a last-ditch effort to stop the inevitable sleep. However, anyone who looks over your shoulders to read your notes would be distressed to find that the center of the cell is actually "n" and then what looks like the beginnings of a "u" but becomes a line that drags down the center of your paper.

And then, there you are. Out like the lights in the Mercedes-Benz Superdome after Beyonce's performance. Neither of you stood a chance.

Some things can't be helped.

* * *

It's never this quiet here.

The root beer you hold is cold in your hand. It's also slightly wet from condensation. You can't remember how long ago you grabbed it from the fridge.

You look down at your clothes.

Oh no. It's that day.

Yet you still move forward, still push open the door.

"Carls?"

You see the suitcases and feel the confusion swell in your stomach. Like new.

She notices you're here. She looks distressed, stumbling over to you. "Sam!"

It's a peculiar feeling, to feel slightly displaced, like everything's happening without your say, while also bruising for the first time. Like both spectator and actor all at once.

"What is this…?" You can't move. You're frozen in both your inaction and reaction **.**  The cold room moves without you.

"Sam, I-" She tries to reach out to you but is cut off by a cough. A cough that racks her whole body, making her double over.

"Cupcake?" Your voice is so tiny it sounds like someone else's.

You move towards her shakily as her coughing becomes more violent. You're close when you see it. She's coughing up something.

Sticky black smoke is seeping from her mouth with every cough. It quickly begins to fill the space around you both.

"Cupcake?" You ask, your voice trembling even more than before. You're afraid and your feet are stuck in place.

Her coughing persists and the smoke keeps coming. The floating black tar starts to touch you, you can smell it, feel it on your skin.

"Carly!" You beg. You don't know where she is anymore and if she can even hear your cries, but either way the darkness continues to swallow you. "Carly! Please stop! I can't breathe!"

You're disappearing, you can feel it. It's all you feel, save for the intense fear that brings mist to your eyes.

You extend your arm, to maybe somehow latch onto Carly in the darkness but your hand meets nothing. You're alone. Wherever Carly is, it isn't here.

You float in the blackness and you're suffocating. Your lungs are being crushed. It's all around you and inside you.

You think you're upside down. But you don't know for sure. It's hard to tell in complete darkness. You wonder how much longer you can go without breathing. Probably only a minute or so more. So that's it then, I guess.

You know that darkness cannot talk but you feel it telling you to give up. It pulses, and with every beat your will is broken. A hum sounds in your ear.

It gets louder, reverberating, and all of the sudden the darkness is filled with a sense of familiarity.

Your bike is beneath you.

You blindly grab the handlebars and rev with every last ounce of energy you have left. Which isn't very much, considering you're seconds from passing out due to lack of oxygen.

But it's enough. You emerge onto a black road in the middle of a desert. Slamming on the brakes, you gasp, taking in as much air as possible as the black cloud floats above you and then finally away from you.

You sit there on your bike, breathing heavily. Oxygen never felt so good to your aching lungs. You watch the darkness travel away from you.

If you were an appreciator of your surroundings, you would notice that the sun is about to set, casting an orange light on the already red atmosphere.

"Oh my god," you wheeze, throwing your head back in relief.

For a moment, everything is calm. Not even the wind disturbs you, picking up the sand and displacing it.

"Sam! Help me!"

You crane you neck to look in the direction of the sound because you know that voice. Your stomach sinks when you see your suspicions are correct.

Cat.

The inky cloud has swallowed her up.

You're turning your bike and willing it to go as fast as possible.

"Sam!"

The helplessness in her voice rips you apart. You push the gearshift up violently, and then once more, and then again. The gears can't switch fast enough on this damned motorcycle. You don't care about ruining your bike, all you can see is Cat being dragged away by darkness.

"Come on, come on." You hiss through gritted teeth. You're close enough to clearly see the fear in Cat's eyes but not close enough to do anything about it. "Give it gas one more time, Puckett."

You grip the handlebars so tight you feel every groove deep in your hand, and you accelerate so fiercely either the handlebar is going to snap or your wrist is. However, most fortunately, neither of those things happen, but your bike speeds up to give you those last couple feet.

It's a good thing you've never cared about doing dangerous things on your bike, because what you do next is definitely not what motorcycles are for.

You stand up, or at least as much as you can while keeping one hand on the handlebars. You reach out to Cat's already extended hand.

If you were an appreciator of art, you would notice that your hands are stretched out towards one another like the subjects of that one famous Michelangelo painting, except your hands are calloused and greedy, reaching to Cat with every pleading muscle in your body. You don't intend an unadorned touch for creation, but a strained grab meant for the postponing of destruction.

"Sam! Don't leave me!"

"I won't! I-I'll get you outta there, Kid!"

Your fingertips are barely brushing one another. You just need another inch. You just need to be able to grab her hand.

She's crying because she knows you can't reach her. And you're crying because fuck, why can't you reach her?

Your bike gives up underneath you, dragging you away as it spirals out.

When the world stops spinning, she's gone. The whole cloud is gone. It's just you, the road, and that fucking setting sun.

You were supposed to save her. But you couldn't keep up with her.

In rage, you turn back to your useless motorcycle.

"You can't do anything!" You scream at the inanimate object and it's echoed back at you, screeched a thousand times by voices that aren't your own. It brings you to your knees.

Tears fall freely from your eyes as you cover your ears to stop hearing the screams.

* * *

You jolt up.

"What the hell was that? Okay, no more fruit salads."

Confusion being the source, you grab your laptop with renewed vigor. A fever dream caused by Cat's concoction is not going to stop you from getting work done. Actually, if anything, it makes you feel the need to complete it more. Like if you finish it, maybe the heavy feeling in your stomach will go away.

Wait? Sam Puckett actually wanting to get schoolwork done? Yeah, that fruit salad definitely made you sick.

But still, you pull your laptop close and click the half circle that will make your lesson replay. You can only hope it doesn't have the same effect as before. You slept off most of the itis, and not to mention your heart is still racing from your crazy dream, so you really don't have much to worry about.

Well, that's not exactly true. You have tons of things to worry about. Falling back asleep just happens to not be one of them at the current moment.

Actually, as you begin to fudge your way through today's lessons, your hand scribbling away hurriedly at your side, the sense of worry never leaves you. And neither does the image of a setting sun that burned itself into your vision.

I guess I wasn't giving you enough credit earlier about the whole "not appreciating your surroundings" thing.

You continue on.

Your feet tap on the ground, your fingers drum on the keyboard, and your hand runs across your forehead more times than you would care to say. This doesn't come easy to you, but you're trying your best.

You exert more energy in the three hours it takes to complete your schoolwork than you probably have in your entire school career. You don't know why you suddenly want to try now, and it's exhausting. The thought of having to do this all over again tomorrow almost makes you want to join a traveling circus. You know how easy it is to give up. You've done it before.

But this time, this time is different. Cat put something in your food and now you're afraid to fail.

Stupid Cat. It always comes back to her. It's like your mind is a broken record. Or maybe even a record with only one song, in a player where the only button that works is repeat. And the song is Cat's voice saying your name and her smiling at you when she walks in the door.

You have to admit you wish she'd walk in the door right now. Most likely actually into the door, since she forgets to open it sometimes. A small, hidden part of your brain secretly hopes it's because she gets so excited to see you that she doesn't think straight. But the rest of your brain pretends you don't care and calls her stupid for it.

You're so backwards.

You're the stupid one. You're the one sitting at a kitchen table, with your head propped up on your fist, waiting for Cat to get home like a sad dog. How stupid is that? To have an ache in your chest in anticipation of seeing a person you'll end up acting like is a burden to you anyway?

You sigh, trying to exhale Cat.

You can't be bothered.

You still see the setting sun when you close your eyes.

You pull your sketchbook close to you. At least there was one thing you could get out of your head.

* * *

"Honey, I'm home!"

You glance up at Cat before returning back to the drawing before you. "Hey, kid. How was school?"

"So boring!" She throws her backpack down haphazardly near the coffee table. "I thought I was there forever!" She makes her way to the kitchen and scoots you over, making room for herself to settle in close to you. She could've sat on the other side of the table, but no, the space previously occupied by one person looked good enough to her.

You don't resist, but you do try to keep yourself from enjoying the contact too much. Which becomes much harder once she slips her arm around yours.

"Cat, stop. I can't draw like that." You say, giving yourself an excuse to unravel yourself from her.

"Whatcha doing?" She ignores you, rewrapping her arm around yours and even going so far as to lean her head on your shoulder.

You exhale irritatedly. "I WAS trying to draw something from this dream I had. But I guess I'm done anyway since I can't paint it."

"Why can't you paint it?"

"Because I don't have any paint, duh."

"Oh. Sam?"

"Yes, Cat?"

You want to interlace your fingers, but you focus on aggressively wringing your pencil instead. You're close to pushing her off you. There's a pattern here that you're not noticing. The one where since you can't display feelings of affection, it turns into misplaced aggression. That's why you're so mean. Meanie.

"Did it feel like I was there forever?"

You're caught off guard by her question. You weren't prepared to have to come up with a lie, your mouth hangs open as you let out a lame, "Huh?"

But fortunately, she seems to not actually be expecting an answer from you, because she continues talking idly.

"I think they're making the days of school longer without telling anybody. The teachers keep talking and talking when I just want to come home and... Mr. Sikowitz talked about evolution today. I don't think it had anything to do with the play we were supposed to be doing... "

You bring your free hand over your face. "Wow, that's  _super_ interesting." Your voice drips with sarcasm.

"I guess." She responds with a sigh.

Her head feels heavy on your shoulder. Not to say she has a big head or anything, it's more so the weight of your own pretending. Pretending you don't want to lean your head against hers, and pretending you couldn't stay like this all day.

You have to get up soon. For your own mental health.

"He said fish just walked right out of the ocean. Like they grew legs, I guess? And we came from apes that started talking? I don't know. It was all very confusing."

You nod. You know she's not expecting any answers from you, but you wanted to give a sign that you were listening anyway.

"If we came from monkeys why does just a bunch of hair only grow from our heads and not all over? And why can't we talk to monkeys?"

"I dunno, Cat. You should've just asked your teacher."

"Yeah, but he's crazy. He's not a scientist!"

You laugh. "Neither am I!"

She smiles at you, lifting her head off your shoulder. "No, you're not!"

A devilish grin spreads onto your face. "Yeah, and you're not a doctor!"

She laughs because she doesn't know what you're talking about. "I know I'm not a doctor!"

"So then what was the deal with that fruit salad?"

You've got her now. You don't know why you're bringing it up though, she's just going to tell you the same thing she always says. Maybe because your ego's still a little wounded from eating the whole thing.

"Wha…?" Looking away from you, she still doesn't get it. Then recognition shows up on her face and she meets your eyes. "Oh! The fruit salad I made you! Did you eat it?"

You were prepared for this lie from the very beginning. "No. Why'd you give me that little bit of bacon?"

She frowns, and you know if her arm wasn't looped around yours she'd have her arms crossed disapprovingly. "Sam! You have to eat healthier! You can't always just eat stuff that's bad for you!"

You frown right back at her, but your eyes are still smiling. You're not really angry, you're just a sadist that likes seeing people get all riled up. Especially Cat. "I thought you just said you weren't a doctor! Let me eat what I want! I'd rather die at 50 with a cheeseburger than 100 with a salad!"

Now she's pouting.

"Sam, don't be mean."

And there it is. That tone of voice that always makes you relent. You decide you've had your fun and smirk.

"All this talking is making me hungry. Are you going to make me lunch or am I gonna have to order out? Probably something real greasy…"

You stare her down and she's trying her hardest not to smile back at you. But she doesn't hold out for long, and she gets up quickly so that you can't see the smile that find its way to her face.

"It's past lunch, but I'll make you something anyway. Something nutritious!" She emphasizes the last part and you roll you eyes. "I just have to use the bathroom first."

She begins to saunter her way to your shared bedroom.

"You just make sure you wash your hands!"

She turns back to you, sticks out her tongue, and then disappears behind the corner.

And as you watch her walk away from you, you realize that stupid thing is there. That unneeded warmth in your chest that stops at your neck. If only you could get rid of it by taking off your sweater.

You know that's not the cause of the heat, but you rip it off anyway, to prove a point. To whom, you don't really know.

The TV beckons you, if not just to offer a simple distraction, but you become keener on the idea once you realize you haven't watched TV at all today anyway.

Plopping down on the couch, you grab the remote, tuning into something loud and violent. There are lots of explosions, fast cars, and people shooting out of said cars. Also known as your kind of program.

You try to indulge because you know that soon Cat will come in and demand that something less intense be put on. And then you'll have to pretend you don't enjoy watching stupid TV shows with her. Because she always leans against you and your body always end up leaning towards her without your permission.

If only you could go back to that ignorance where your behavior never seemed weird because you didn't know you liked her. Back when sometimes you were mean and other times you were nice, but you never really thought about it. Before you started thinking about everything.

Your brain is not used to all this work. And one could definitely tell by the way you're handling things. Ignore, ignore, ignore. Instead of think, think, think. Things are too complicated. You just want to watch movies where people punch things.

And if things are going your way, right now, you can do just that.

The overly muscular man on the screen yells something about revenge.

Someone knocks on the door.

You roll your eyes once you realize it's the actual door.

Things never go your way.

Pausing the movie on screen, you stomp your way to the door. Hopefully the person can sense your annoyance on the other side and will just leave before you get there.

You throw open the door. "What?"

Because that's definitely the way people are supposed to answer doors.

The girl standing before you is momentarily confused by your appearance, as if she was expecting someone else. That or your demeanor caught her off-guard.

"Hey! Sam!"

The girl looks at you like she knows you, and it's strange because you've never seen this girl in your life. Why is she smiling at you? And why is she smiling so big? Ugh, you already find this girl unbearable.

"Uh, who are you?"

The confused look is back on her face. At least her smile is gone. "Tori?"

Your face stays blank.

"Tori Vega? You met me at a party? I'm Cat's friend?"

"Um… no?" None of that rings a bell. And you thought Cat didn't have any friends.

"You don't remember the party? You and everyone from iCarly came! You're Sam Puckett!"

Well duh. You were famous on the internet. Of course she knows  _your_ name.

"Yeah?" You say in the most sardonic tone you can muster. She doesn't catch the hint.

"You know what's funny though? From Cat's notebook, you would think your last name's Puckell-"

You slam the door on her face before the sound of the l's even get to fully leave her mouth. She's lucky that's all you do. Hearing your name pronounced like that throws you into a blind rage and you could've done much worse.

Cat suddenly appears from out of your bedroom. "What was that?"

You plop down on the couch and press play on the remote to let your explosions commence. "Nothing," you state indifferently.

"Oh." She takes your word for it and starts heading to the kitchen. That is until the knocking on the door returns.

You sigh loudly and crankily because you want the whole world to know how displeased you are with current events. Cat pays you no mind and goes to answer the door anyway.

That Tori girl is persistent because she's still standing there ever vigilantly.

"Hey-"

Panic rushes to Cat's face and she slams the door.

You smile. Never in the time you guys have known each other have you felt more of a connection to Cat then now. She looks totally flustered when your eyes meet.

However, the girl at your door is relentless and begins knocking loudly, refusing to give up.

"Cat, open the door!" She yells from the other side.

Cat looks like she's going to be sick. But she goes to open the door anyway. Who could this girl possibly be?

"Hey, Tori!" Cat says in her most airy voice, as if the entire exchange didn't occur.

"What?" Tori retorts, reasonably bewildered.

But instead of explaining, Cat just begins shushing Tori. Even going so far as to put her index finger on Tori's lips, all the while nervously glancing back at you and pushing Tori out the door. She closes the door behind them once they're both over the threshold.

That was weird. You know Cat is just a weird person but that was super weird even for her. And why was she trying to keep you unaware of whatever the situation was? And once again, who is that girl?

You don't take very well to Cat trying to hide something from you right in front of your face. You have to rectify this.

You get up and stomp your way over to the window next to the door. You peek out. "What are you guys talking about?" you demand.

Cat notices you and almost jumps out of her skin. She smiles uneasily and then pushes Tori even further away from the door.

You frown something intense in her direction, never breaking eye contact, even as she moves to come back in the house.

"What are you doing?" You pester as soon as she enters.

She moves past you to grab her coat. "My friend Tori just came over because she wants to grab some coffee. So… we're going to go do that."

"What? You don't even drink coffee? And I thought you didn't have any friends beside me?" You might as well have an overhead light with the way you interrogate her. But she slips past you, ignoring all your questions.

"I won't be gone long! I'll see you when I get back!"

And she leaves quickly, before you have a chance to scrutinize her more and continue what is really just you throwing a tantrum.

What does she mean, "I'll see you when I get back?" Does she think you just sit around waiting for her? Waiting to see her face so you can breathe again?

Pffft, the nerve of that girl. You've got plenty of things you could be doing. Like… well, you can't think of anything in particular right now but believe you, there's tons!

She thinks she's the only one that can go out and do things? You'll show her.

In a huff, you grab your backpack out of your room, along with quickly tossing on your black pullover hoodie, and head out the door.

You climb onto your bike and start it up, heading in no particular direction. It's California, you'll find something to do easy. There's people all over all the time, and with people, comes the opportunity for mischief.

Yeah, that would definitely make you feel like your old self. A little mischief. Or, more likely, a lot of mischief. You weren't really the type of person to give someone a break. Yep, if you were going to cause some trouble, it was going to be all out. Go big or go home as they say.

But as you tear down the road with the sun at your back, you can't really think of anything. Your mind keeps going back to Cat. You wonder what's she's doing. You just saw her a couple minutes ago and you're headed in a direction away from her, and yet, it's like you left your mind with her.

You think about driving into the side of a building. Anything to escape this cloud hanging over your head. It's pink and asks you about evolution.

You accelerate your motorcycle loudly. You couldn't go any faster than you already were, you were pushing ten over the speed limit, but you hoped the sound would clear your head. You couldn't get anything done if you were stuck in there.

Digging deep to regain your impulsive nature, you turn onto a street without really thinking about it. You were going to go with the flow, trying to get back to when you made a mess of things and didn't care what anybody thought.

You look to see that you're on route to the mall.

Perfect.

Time to take some ass and kick some names.

Or however that phrase goes.

* * *

When did it get so dark out?

You've been driving around in a fog. You didn't even end up going to the mall. Once you got there you didn't have the heart to get off your bike. You stared at the people and thought about all the pranks you could pull. But how funny could any of it be if you were the only one laughing at it?

You never thought that you, Sam Puckett, would need an audience to perform.

You had to do something. You couldn't go back home and when Cat inevitably asks you what you were out doing, say nothing. You couldn't tell her that you can't bring yourself to give a shit about anything outside of your apartment.

You pull into an alleyway. Your take your key out and drag yourself off your bike. Your feet feel so heavy as you walk toward one of the alleyway walls.

When in doubt, make art. Or, I guess, what others would call vandalism.

You dig into your backpack, searching for the spray paint you always keep in there. You never know when the mood will arise so it's best to just always be prepared.

Your search only awards you two cans. You could've sworn you carried more, but you must've knocked them out at some point with how often you just throw you backpack all over the house. But two is more than enough. Heck, you could do something really cool even with one. You hold them up to the light of the street lamp and squint, checking what colors they are.

Black and gold. You can work with this. Dropping your backpack on the ground (you would fight anyone that dared pick it up), you start to spray color onto the gross, forgotten wall. You don't have a picture in mind really, but your hands are moving all by themselves. You're not really good at thinking ahead in general so I guess it's no different when it comes to your art.

It feels like you're hypnotizing yourself. Your eyes get lost in the swirls of paint you create with your hands and the golden pillars you make before you. It's almost as if it's alive, growing by itself. You nearly miss hear the footsteps behind you. Nearly.

You glower in their direction. The footsteps were light, not the sounds of anyone that could be too big, but you wanted to be on the offense anyway. You already weren't really yourself, but you'd be damned if you let someone sneak attack Sam Puckett.

And it's just a kid. Maybe 12 or 13, with snot in his nose and an air about him that tells you he's comfortable in these streets. He's definitely not lost and expecting you to help him. Good.

You go back to your work, and he just watches you.

Where are this kid's parents? What did he want from you? To teach him the ways of graffiti or something?

You're slightly annoyed but not annoyed enough to tell him to leave. Or maybe you just don't have the energy for it. Whatever you were creating was taking the last you had left.

You sigh.

"Don't fall in love, kid." You say without looking behind you, but he has to know you're speaking to him given that you're the only people around.

You step back and stare up at your tag. You bring out your arms to point to it in an exaggerated manner. "You'll start making stuff like this."

"I don't know what that is." He finally speaks, and he practically sounds like he knows you.

You throw your hands up. "I don't know either! That's the point! I'm not making this for me, I'm only making this to pretend I'm not making it for someone else."

Suddenly you look at him as if truly seeing him for the first time.

"Why am I even talking to you? I hate people. Arg, I'm losing it! Get outta here kid!"

He shrugs his shoulders and sprints off, which you're grateful for because kids around that age tend to be shitheads and you didn't feel like roughing him up. Oh man, you of all people, for once in your life don't feel like getting into a physical altercation. That's crazy. You've got to be legitimately sick or something.

You grab your backpack and hop back onto your bike. You take one final look at your handiwork. It's just a crawling mess of black swelling around golden beacons, but never managing to overtake them. _Good enough,_  you think, and slamming the key into the ignition, you speed off before the cops come. That kid could've snitched, so better safe than sorry.

The stars are beautiful tonight. The golden pieces shine brightly against the stickiness of the black sky.

Though you don't realize nor care, you just want to be home again.

This feels like the longest bike ride of your life.

* * *

You stumble into your apartment, paper bag clutched tightly in your hand. You slip your backpack carelessly off your shoulder.

"Yo girly. I went to Inside Out and got dese burgers."

Cat is sitting on the couch, a little sulkily I might add, but still she's obviously in the vicinity to hear you but offers no response.

You walk over to sit on the arm of the couch. "You good? Did Tori do something stupid?"

"No. We just talked." Short but at least a response. What is it about this day that is making Cat act so weird?

You reach down to start taking off your shoes, it felt like a rock out with your socks out kind of night. "Oh, man. What did that girl- whoa." Without warning Cat is standing awfully close to your face. She catches you off guard since you were looking down, you didn't even see her walk over. "Hey there Cat."

She's staring at you really hard, and it's like whenever she's this close you can see her thinking.

"She said I should…" Her sentence trails off as her gaze falls to the floor.

"What?" Your voice comes out more demanding and panicky then you would like, but it's probably because your insides are on fire.

And then just as abruptly as she came close to you, she turns around and runs off. "I can't!"

You hear the door to your bedroom slam. You're left with two choices.

Either, one, you leave her be and let yourself cool off.

Or, two, you follow her in there and see what's making her so… strange. I mean, more than her usual strangeness of course.

Despite most of your body protesting, you go with the second choice, figuring she can't be mad at you for coming in since it's your room too.

"Cat, what did Tori sa- You are in the wrong bed."

She continues to lie on your bed and doesn't make any sign of moving.

"I know. I'm not stupid." She retorts, looking particularly cross, particularly at you. But as you move closer to your own bed (which this girl has the nerve to make you wary of approaching), you see that her face is twisted in that "only angry at yourself" type of angry with the tinge of feeling sorry for yourself that comes with it.

She hides her face in your pillow and you sit down on the edge of the bed. You stay like that for a while and eventually you start to get the hint that maybe she might not want to talk about whatever she and Tori spoke about. Although the curiosity is killing you.

"Hey, I got something to tell you. You'll be proud of me."

She leaves the position that you're sure was suffocating her and turns to you. "What?"

"I actually finished all of my dumb schoolwork today!" You don't know why you're telling her this. Maybe you just wanted to give her some sign that there's no pressure for her to explain the events of the day. At least not now.

She smiles. "That's good! I am proud of you!"

That goofy grin that only she brings out shows up on your face. You don't really have anything else to say but Cat's not pouting anymore, so you must've done something right.

Or maybe wrong because she's staring hard at you again. She's not nearly as close as before but that offers no alleviation of the fire that flares up under your skin. Whenever she looks at you for too long, you can't meet her eyes. You're afraid she'll know. You'll look at her for too long and you won't be able to stop yourself from kissing her.

Fuck. That was the first time you've consciously thought about kissing Cat. Shitballs. It's all downhill from here.

"I think this is my favorite place," Cat states, breaking the silence.

You clear your throat. "What? Here?"

She looks from you to the many things surrounding and around your bed. She nods gently. "Yeah. Your bed… with you."

What did that old man say to Carly once? That he had angina?

Well, now you definitely know how that feels.

You can feel your heart beating in your throat.

The boy toilet becomes your area of study once again.

"I like it here too," you breathe. Of course you like it here, it's your bed. There's no way anybody could read more into that, right?

"…with me?" And it's more of a squeak than a question.

You breathe deeply, trying to exhale all this fucking uncoolness. Exhale the butterflies and the shortness of breath, and inhale the smirk and making direct eye contact.

"You're alright, kid."

And she's smiling again because she knows that's the best she can get out of you and her face is making it a lot harder to be cool so you hurriedly change the subject.

"Now are you gonna eat those burgers I got or what?"


	5. Like Strawberry Shortcake (Your Reasons)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
> Also this chapters includes some fake texts that are posted on my Tumblr (kaumana.tumblr.com), just follow the links when you seem them!   
> On to the show!

 

You were going to kill her.  
You couldn't believe she scheduled a babysitting appointment when she KNEW she was going to be at school. And with a baby no less.  
You hated babies.  
At least with kids they could walk and you could make them do things for you. But babies? They just cry and poop on themselves!  
You didn't even want to think about the diaper changing. You sat underneath the scalding hot water coming from the shower with all your clothes on and you still didn't feel clean.  
Also, babies don't appreciate anything. Not even your best jokes. And especially not when you sat outside in the lawn chairs with it to dry off. A baby can't even appreciate a good sunbathing! What are they even good for?  
The baby couldn't help you with calculus, or any of your subjects for that matter, and was ACTUALLY very rude and insisted on crying when you told it you were trying to get school work done. Freaking useless! It's like Cat AND THIS DUMB BABY don't even want you to graduate this year!  
Feeding it was the only real relief you got. You could at least identify with the baby there. You always stopped your screaming when you got food too.  
You're finally getting through your last class when the best thing you could possibly hear sounds. The doorbell.  
You grab the baby and rush to the door, holding it away from you like someone who doesn't have much experience with babies and doesn't particularly like them. Which both happened to be true.  
You cradle the baby in your arm, but only to have a free hand to yank the door open.  
"Here's your baby, it has the same amount of limbs as when you left, thanks for the money, bye!"  
You complete the exchange with the child's father before he's even really aware of what's going on and slam the door closed. You're pretty sure you just lost a customer but, hey, you hate babies anyway. The door rings again. You sigh exaggeratedly, hoping he can hear how much exasperation he's causing you.  
You open the door.  
"What?" You grunt at the man.  
"Uh, Maria's car seat?"  
He points into the apartment where the seat is placed by the kitchen table. You look back, and then look back at him, and then, making a noise like a creaking door the whole time so he knows how annoyed you are, you grab the car seat and give it to him.  
"Thanks," he says, but mostly out of requirement, and you shut the door in his face again.  
You throw yourself on the couch and sigh. You should just keep all this money and not give any to Cat since she didn't do anything and left it all to you.  
But you realize how it doesn't really matter anyway since your bills are her bills and you would probably end up buying her something anyway.  
Ugh. You had to challenge yourself. You had to go fifteen minutes without thinking about her. You had to actually do something for once and enjoy it, without thinking about her and missing her.  
You stare at the SP5 near the TV. You hadn't let yourself indulge in any violent videogames for a while. Mostly because there were usually children running around your apartment and you had to hide them out of reach. But right now, as long as Cat didn't schedule another surprise baby sitting gig without telling you, you can't think of any good reasons to not grab Call of Battlefield and shoot online randoms in the face. You'll be so focused on your kill count, you won't have a chance to wish Cat was home!  
You get up and grab the aforementioned game from its top secret hiding place: sitting on top of the kitchen cabinets where tiny humans can't reach.  
Within no time, you have the game all started up and you're assault weaponing your way through a desert town. Even though you haven't played in a bit, the other gamers in your match are no competition. You only wish you could use your mic to deliver some trash talk on top of your merciless beating, but dudes in this game always get either really weird or really gross when they realize you're a girl. Oh well. You'll just have to settle for yelling, "Eat a DICK" at your flat-screen TV. You're basking in your own prowess as the clock nears three, which for once, you aren't keenly aware of. You forgot how much fun this game was, but also how much time it ate up.  
And, just like that, as if she could sense your brain not being entirely dedicated to her, Cat pops in the doorway.  
"Hello Sam!" she yells to you, dropping her backpack onto the floor. You manage to grunt in response, your eyes never leaving your virtual combat.  
She makes her way to the couch, flopping down beside you.  
You hear a paper bag crinkle just as a certain smell hits your nose.  
You slam the pause button on your controller. Not that it really means anything since you're in an online match, but your brain is already elsewhere.  
"Is that a food truck burrito?" You demand, your hands already reaching out to the bag.  
Cat giggles. "Yeah, I bought it for you!"  
You miraculously hear her over the sound of you ripping the bag open. You couldn't get to its greasy goodness fast enough. In your eagerness, you're barely able to smooth down the foil before tearing a giant bite into it. "Is this to make up for leaving me alone to die this morning?" You manage to say in between chews without choking yourself.  
"What do you mean?" She's watching you intently as usual, which is odd, considering you're making a particularly gross display of yourself. "The baby! You scheduled an actual baby babysitting while you were off at school! You know I hate babies!"  
Her eyes finally leave you as she tries to remember what you're talking about. Her hand comes to her mouth and she gasps, signaling her recollection.  
"Oh my goodness! I totally forgot about that!"  
"Yeah, you jerk." you snarl, finishing up the last of the burrito. Her thumb traces her lip in thought, coming to rest between her teeth. You follow it a little too closely. She stares at the floor. "Well, I guess I should've bought you two then."  
In the midst of your greedy and satisfied leaning back and heavy breathing, you almost miss her mumbling. Your post burrito bliss is broken.  
"What?"  
She smiles that smile at you, the one she strictly uses for when she's about to ask you to do something.  
"Oh, no, no, no. Whatever it is, I'm not doing it!"  
"Aw, come on, Sammy! It's only for today!"  
You don't know what she wants but you know it can't possibly be good for you.  
"No. No! I'm already saying no!" You put your hands up in agitation and remove yourself from the sofa. Cat tries to stop you from moving but her hands are too light.  
"You don't even know what it is!" She whines.  
"I don't need to know! I'm putting my foot down, kid! Why don't you ask Dice or Goomer to do whatever your thing is?" You grab a canned soda from the fridge, not paying very much attention to which flavor it is. You're just trying to display how unconcerned you are using body language. The soda fizzes as you crack open the can and Cat storms her way over to you.  
"I can't ask them! It has to be you!" She grabs your arm, not violently or anything, but just enough so that your soda is no longer to your lips and you're focusing on her. You wish it were a little more aggressive, so you wouldn't have to admit to yourself that the smallest action from Cat could easily captivate you. You wait for her to explain herself. "Tori wants us all to hang out. Together." She says with a gravity that makes it feel even more like a punishment that you already thought it was.  
"Who's us?" You set the soda on the island, though Cat's hand doesn't leave your arm, instead sliding down and curling her fingers around your wrist. You're beginning to wonder if she knows about the control she has over you and is setting your skin on fire so you have no choice but to agree.  
"You and me and all my friends from school. Well, not all of them, that would be a lot of people. Just the good ones. Tori, Andre, and Robbie. Maybe Beck." She shrugs her shoulders and looks a bit frustrated at the last name.  
"You mean those spoiled looking kids I saw you meet up with when I dropped you off at school?" You hope she means some other people. Because those kids looked like a lot of things, but fun wasn't one of them.  
"Yeah!"  
"Ah... No!" You break from her grip and try to run away, going around the island so you won't have to push past Cat and give her a chance to put her hands on you again.  
She rushes to the other side and you're stuck like one of those movie gags where two characters chase each other around a table.  
"Please Sam! It's only this one time and then I promise I'll never make you hang out with them again!"  
You find yourselves doing the gag. You're jerking to each side, trying to find an opening, and she just follows your movement. How long do you figure she can keep this up? And what does she think she's going to do if she catches you?  
"I don't want to hang out with them one time!"  
"Tori will never leave me alone about this! Can you just do it?"  
You sigh a lot. And I mean, a lot. It's a fast and easy way to inform everyone how done you are. And the sigh you let out in this moment is one of the sighs to end all sighs. You grip the table dramatically and lean back, giving the audience true pathos.  
"Fine! I'll hang out with your stupid friends! But only because I know _**you'll**_ never leave me alone about this either! But only this one time, okay?" And you try to sound hard, but the smile that pops onto Cat's face, the one that says she got the best of you, reminds you that you aren't.  
"Good because I told them we'd meet them at Tori's house in an hour!"  
"Oh, you're a straight con artist Cat!"

* * *

You're grumbling as you and Cat are getting off your motorcycle in the driveway of this gigantic modern house. You grumble more as you take off your helmet. You knew they were all spoiled Hollywood kids. You knew it. Who even needs a house this big? How many people could possibly live in there? Tori's house could eat your old apartment complex whole and still have room for dessert. They probably had a freaking butler.  
You look over to Cat to lead you into this hellhole, but she's just staring at the fancy monstrosity biting her lip. She had been kind of anxious ever since you guys got onto your bike and headed this way. It makes you want to be here that much less. Because if she doesn't want to see her own friends, well, then there was no hope for you.  
"Cat." You say, wanting to get this over with.  
She jumps as your words break her out of her thoughts. "Huh?" She offers weakly.  
"Your friend Tori's house? Are we actually going to go in or are we just going to creep in her driveway like weirdos? You already dragged me out here, we might as well do the thing."  
She nods but offers no words of encouragement and simply heads forward, expecting you to follow.  
Cat knocks on the door meekly, almost like she's hoping no one will hear and you'll get to leave. But Tori must've been watching you from her window because the door immediately flies open.  
You catch Tori's too happy face for only a second before the door slams shut.  
"What the fu-"  
The door opens again and Tori's still standing there, ever smiling. "Kidding! Just a little payback guys! Come on in!"  
You stare at Tori in disbelief, wondering how one person can be so lame.  
When you walk in there's a huge classical piano everyone's standing around because, of course there is. And the furniture's really nice and squeaky clean like no one actually lives here. And there's nice shit, literally just everywhere. You are disgusted.  
Tori motions to the guy sitting behind the piano.  
"Sam, this is Andre. Andre, Sam. She's Cat's..." You're standing too close to Cat so you unknowingly get caught in a stare down between her and Tori. You swear you see Tori's eyes glint evilly. But then it ends as quickly as it began. "Roommate."  
Huh. That was weird.  
"Hey." The guy says and nods at you.  
"Hey." You respond, repeating the gesture. It was a very short greeting from an outside perspective, but, to you, a very poignant thing had taken place. Why didn't Cat tell you about him? He was so cool! You usually didn't have friend crushes this instantly, if at all, because let's be honest, you don't pay attention to most people, but you wanted to go get burgers with this man. And then be detectives and drive around LA with the top down, finally ending up on the rooftops, playing saxophones with shades on. The possibilities were endless.  
"We're working on our songs for the senior showcase!" Tori proclaims, even though no one asked, interrupting your buddy cop fantasies. You were the wild and reckless one who was always on her last strike for never playing by the rules.  
"Yeah, have you come up with anything, Red?" The beautiful man asks the girl that, for once in your life, you forgot was beside you. Although, she has been uncharacteristically silent and trying to shrink herself so it wasn't entirely your fault. Or Andre's fault.  
"All I have is a melody right now, really..." She answers in a voice so quiet it's almost a whisper. Your focus is 100% back on her. Why was she behaving so weirdly? What was Tori doing to make Cat so weird? Because it couldn't be Andre, not sweet, beautiful Andre.  
"What's a senior showcase?" You ask Tori. Only the first of several questions you want to ask, but the rest will have to wait until you were in a position to fully scrutinize her.  
Cat sits down beside Andre at the piano and a small part of you panics because if you thought he was cool, what did Cat think? Did she think he was so cool, she like liked him?  
Maybe that's why Cat was acting so weird! Maybe it _**was**_ sweet and beautiful Andre! You become torn between hating him and the new friendship you had created for you two in your head.  
"It's a showcase Hollywood Arts does every year for the seniors to show off their talent and they invite famous producers, directors, and agents to watch everyone's performances!" Tori answers, even though you've mostly stopped listening. You watch Andre as he tries to bounce ideas off Cat, whose only response is to look sick and doesn't offer anything back.  
He sighs, giving up, his fingers sliding off the keys with an discordant noise. "It's kind of a big deal."  
"Yeah, you even have to audition to be in the showcase since they don't want to waste anyone's time... Hey, Cat, why don't you play Sam the song you made for your audition?" The evil glint returns to Tori's eyes.  
"Oh yeah! You should play that song! It's so good!" Andre says, getting up from the piano so Cat has the space to play if she chooses.  
Which, Cat will probably choose not to do because she looks like she'd rather die. She lets out a nervous laugh. "No, Sam wouldn't want to hear that! ...would you, Sam?"  
"Yeah, I would. I've never gotten to hear one of your songs before." The words come from you honestly before you have a chance to think about them and make them vague and coded. Sometimes, when you look at Cat, and she looks at you, you forget there are other people in the room.  
She sighs, as if the inevitable has finally caught up to her, and places her hands on the keys.  
She hits a few quietly, testing the waters, before building up to a soft melody. A complicated but slow, pensive sound, the notes are hesitant and contemplative.

_Baby I got love for thee_

_So deep inside of me_

_I don't know where to start_

_I love you more than anything_

_But the words can't even touch what's in my heart_

Cat's voice rings out loud and clear, and your heart stops. You knew she could sing, but you didn't know... You don't know exactly what you didn't know. All you know is Cat playing in front of you and her voice swimming in your head and in your bloodstream. If you were somewhat aware of the other people in the room before, they are most certainly gone now. Cat looks so different when she sings. You feel so stupid because you're enamored with her like some star struck lovestruck teen drooling all over, but you can't help but feel like you're falling in love with her all over again. Her and her sad song.

_When I try to explain it_

_I sound insane_

_The words don't ever come out right_

_I get all tongue-tied and twisted_

_I can't explain what I'm feeling_

_And I say baby, baby, baby_

_Baby I_

_Ooh baby, oh baby, my baby_

_Baby I_

Everyone knows that Cat appears and acts like someone much younger than herself. But every once in awhile, you'll catch a glimpse of her where she'll actually look her own age. And this is one of those times.  
As she plays her ballad, her face looks so incredibly sorrowful and full of longing. It's silly, but you kind of almost thought Cat didn't know about those emotions. But they're written all over her face now.

_All I'm trying to say is_

_You're my everything baby_

_But every time I try to say it_

_Words, they only complicate it_

_Baby, baby-_  
"Okay, that's enough. It's stupid." She slams the piano closed and you're ripped only partially from your trance.  
The words fight to come to your dry mouth. "Wow... Cat-"  
The door is shoved open with a loud bang, and you're grateful because you're sure the next words that left your lips would've been "I love you."  
The disturbance yells, "Do I hear my beloved singing?"  
"Robbie! Knocking!" Tori shouts.  
"What is that?!" You shout.  
"We kissed that one time, I'm not your beloved!" Cat shouts.  
The only one who didn't have anything to shout was Andre, who instead began awkwardly looking into his phone.  
The boy, who Cat has apparently kissed (don't think Sam let that slip past her ears), waltzes into Tori's home in a grandeur fashion, which means he must not know how weird looking he is. He has a messy mop of black hair, glasses that are definitely last year, clothes **_definitely_** from L.L. Grape, and the worst part, a freaking puppet on his hand that shares almost all the same horrible characteristics. Except no glasses, and clothes from Cool Subject. AND CAT HAS KISSED HIM. HIM. PUPPET MCGLASSES MAN.  
You don't even know who this guy is and yet, you have to fight the urge to strangle him and punt his puppet into the next oversized yard. "What's up guys?" He says and his voice, it's just the worst. You don't know whether it grates you because it's genuinely annoying or your brain is throwing a tantrum because at some point, Cat showed a romantic interest in him. You feel bad for hating that angel Andre, even if it was only in your head. No, it was this boy, this boy who you had to watch out for. Which kind of makes you feel a little bad about yourself since he's so... you know... Yuck.  
"What's everybody doing? I thought we were supposed to go mini golfing!" He continues even though no one responded to his original inquiry. He is way too pumped up. You wonder if he's always like this. Screaming and throwing his lanky limbs around awkwardly. And what's the deal with the puppet?  
"We were waiting on you," Tori is the one to speak to him. She faces you and jabs a thumb in his direction. "That dingaling is Robbie."  
"Hey!" He protests, even though you're sure her assessment is spot on.  
"She's right, you are a dingaling." A voice that, as far as you know, doesn't belong to anyone in the room says.  
It's only when Robbie looks in the direction of the puppet do you realize it was the one that "spoke."  
"Hey!" He yells at the wooden oversized children's toy attached to his hand.  
"It talks?!" You howl in disbelief at no one in particular, thinking about how this one time hang out was becoming more distressing by the minute.  
"Oh, yeah, that's Rex." Tori answers casually, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. That's Rex? _That's Rex? Like it's a person?_ You feel like you just walked into some weird Twilight Zone where the only one who can tell the difference between puppets and human beings is yourself. Was this something everyone just accepted? Was this puppet apart of the gang?  
Cat's friends are really turning out to be weirder than you could've ever imagined. You figure this is just what happens to kids with too much money and time on their hands. Before you can visually map out the exits in the house and decide on the best escape route, the weird puppet guy begins walking towards you with his hand outstretched.  
"And you must be the infamous Sam!"  
Your calculations of how fast you would have to run to be able to burst through the glass doors before anyone could stop you are cut short. Infamous? "Does Cat say a lot about me?" You ask, ignoring his request for a handshake. You don't know where that hand has been. Like in other puppets. You internally shudder.  
He withdraws his hand and places it on his chin, making a mockery of anyone who's ever had a complex thought, which you're positive this guy hasn't. "Actually, no. Any time any of us ask about you, she gets all red and refuses to say anything. She only really talks about you to Tori." He puts his hand up to his face like he's trying to prevent anyone else from hearing but doesn't change the volume of his voice. "But that's because Tori can be a little relentless with her questions, if you know what I mean?" He throws a quick smile Tori's way. Was this his idea of a joke? Was he trying to bond with you? You might not like Tori but you like him even less. "But I mean infamous like we all know you from iCarly and we all knew you moved here but Cat would never let us hang out with you or at your new apartment so it's a known thing like 'don't bring up Sam to Cat or she'll get all weird.' Except everyone can plainly see her doodling in her notebook all the time, a bunch of hearts and your na-"  
"Robbie! Stop talking!" Tori orders and, speaking louder than a murmur for the first time this evening, Cat shouts the exact same thing at the same time, making you believe this is something that occurs often. You didn't know he was such a motormouth. Granted, you stopped listening after he had answered your initial question. The answer that made your throat feel like it was trying to close. Cat never talked about you? You thought you were a big, or at least a fair sized, portion of her life. You shared both an apartment and a business together, you would think that'd be something worth a mention. You don't know how to take this new information. Were you really not as important to Cat as you convinced yourself you were? Then why did she always hang on you? Had you really been misinterpreting things you hadn't bothered to interpret this whole time? So it really was him and not you?  
You're stuck in your own head and don't notice how awkward the atmosphere in Tori's house has rapidly become. It seems like Robbie ruined everything for everybody. It feels like an hour has passed, with Tori and Cat giving Robbie dirty looks and you thinking about how much you'd like to get out of here before your body betrays you. But in actuality, Andre swoops in to break up the uncomfortable situation in front of you almost immediately. "We should probably get to the golf course before it closes."

* * *

You all crowded into Andre's car, with Tori in the passenger seat, and you, Cat, and Robbie stuck in the back. You should've gotten in the front, so you could learn more about your new best friend, but you had to keep an eye on Robbie. You probably also should've sat in the middle, instead of Cat, keeping her and him far away from each other. However, you wanted to be able to gaze wistfully out the window.  
You weren't one to be melodramatic (lie), but you felt like if you didn't allow yourself the small breathing room the window seat alloted, you would've freaked out at everyone in the car. You were internally throwing a tantrum, a skill you had mastered after the countless times Carly scolded you for being too violent. You faced your entire body towards the window, cutting yourself completely off from Cat. You were making a invisible barrier.  
It was one thing to think you didn't have a chance, that way you could tell yourself that maybe you were just being pessimistic, But to hear it was a whole different matter entirely. There was a finality in it. The answer was concrete, instead of being something you could play with in your mind.  
They're all singing some pop song you don't know, and you're completely detached, staring at the restaurants you pass by. For maybe the first time, you physically feel the distance between you and your real friends. Not these people in the car, nor the too young boy and the too old man you and Cat often ended up hanging out with. If Cat didn't care, who did?  
You glance over your shoulder and see Cat diligently typing away at her pearphone. That's when you feel your own cell vibrate.

[YOU MAY NOW APPLY YOUR 3D GLASSES](http://kaumana.tumblr.com/post/145893691729/this-is-the-first-round-of-texts-because-not-only)

You hate how much better these simple texts and stupid emojis make you feel. You hated how she could do that, make you feel like nothing and then something again so easily. In a car full of people, you were starting to feel alone, and she wouldn't let you. Just like when you were careless careening across the United States. She stopped you. She had to care a little.  
You stare at her. She's still looking at her phone, her fingers rest on the screen like she might want to say something else. You follow her red hair down to her shoulders and then back up to her face. She wasn't doing anything special, merely sitting in a car. But the sun just seemed to fight its way into the little spaces it had to make her glow. Although you tried to smother them for years, you unfortunately still had feelings. And they were for Cat.  
"Whoa! I'm sitting next to some pearphone text messaging champions! Somebody call Rigley!" Robbie screams from his seat, where you had almost forgotten he was there. Why was the kid always screaming? Didn't he have an inside voice? You wonder if he was trying to be funny again. Did he honestly think half the appeal of a joke was saying it really loudly? Also, you did win a record for texting once, so it's even less funny. You face scrunches up as you mash the question of the day to Cat.

[PUT THOSE GLASSES BACK ON](http://kaumana.tumblr.com/post/145893776014/second-round-of-texts-aka-the-question-of-the-day)

Cat laughs out loud at your last text. You always had that picture of the queen on hand for a particular "yikes" moment. The breath of relief you didn't realize you were holding sneaks out in between your snickers. You sent too many texts in response to Cat and didn't come off as cool and casual as you had wanted. And there was no better way to direct someone's attention away from your embarrassment then with a meme.  
She ends her laughter with what sounds like a sigh of relief as well and leans her head on your shoulder. She weaves her arm around yours. Normally, you would definitely tell her to get off. Or, at least passive aggressively repeat how much you hated touching until she got the hint. Especially with so many people around to make you feel self-conscious about how it affected your image. But right now, you want Robbie to see. You even pull her a bit closer in a very territorial move, even though, one, Cat is a person, not a territory. And two, she wasn't even yours. That doesn't mean you can't make him think it though.  
Andre takes a brief look at his phone, which he shouldn't be doing as the driver, but you will forgive him for this one time. He then takes another look at it like he didn't read whatever it was correctly. You see him glance at you guys in the back seat through the rearview mirror, and he turns the music down. You're thankful for that because Robbie was loudly and enthusiastically singing along with another pop song that came on. "Hey, Cat." He says, and his voice is kind of strained, it sounds nervous. You didn't think he seemed like someone who could be nervous about anything.  
"Hmmm?" She responds, not taking her head off your shoulder.  
"So- you're going to laugh about this- I forgot I texted Beck earlier and told him we were going to go play mini golf." You can't see her face, but Tori turns to him super fast so it can't be good. "I didn't invite him! He just asked me what I was doing today and I told him! He just texted me saying he might see us there- don't look at me like that Tori, he's my best friend! We're all friends and-"  
"What is wrong with you, Andre?!" Tori is finally yelling after giving him what you assume were dirty looks. You're offended for him, Tori of all people shouldn't be asking what's wrong with others. "Text him back and tell him-"  
"It's okay." Cat pipes in to the screaming match taking place in the front seats. They both silence immediately. Tori turns around in her seat, looking at Cat in confusion.  
"It's okay? Cat, you know if Beck comes, he'll probably bring Jade-"  
"Yeah, it's okay. They can come, like Andre said, we're all friends."  
Tori pauses, and after some time, nods. She looks to you to confirm something or make sense of something, her eyebrows slightly furrowing together. You look back at her and shrug, at least as much as you can with Cat's head on your one shoulder. You don't know what or who the heck they're talking about. You're only here because Cat wanted you to be.  
"This day is going to be more interesting than I thought." Tori declares, facing the front again.  
Andre pulls into the parking lot of a magnificent mini golf course. It's the biggest one you've ever seen, not that you had seen a lot, but still. The people out here might have horrible personalities but them having all that money was good for some things. And this was one of them. There were so many sections, you could spend the whole day here.  
You guys get out of the car and start heading towards the entrance. You study the construction more thoroughly, letting Cat guide you in the right direction since she still hadn't let go of your arm.  
"One time I turned Carly's apartment into a mini golf course." You mention offhandedly.  
"That's awesome." Andre says as you near the ticket booth.  
"You bet it was, Andre. I am full of good ideas."  
"Was it something for iCarly?" Cat inquires to you. Andre and Tori are talking to the incredibly bored looking teenager managing the booth. "No, me and Fredbag were trying to ruin Carly's chances of getting into this fancy school."  
"Why would you do that?" Robbie is the next one to speak and you seriously contemplate ignoring him.  
You shrug your shoulders. "Because I'm a jerk."  
"Okay, tickets are paid for! Are you guys ready for some mini golfing?" Tori breaks up the conversation, holding all your wristbands high. You guess that means she and Andre paid for you all. As they should have. You were a poor kid from Seattle, these kids pooped money, and, by Jesus Christ on the cross, you were going to take advantage of that. You weren't going to pay for anything this whole night if you could help it.  
Tori passes out all the wristbands and you take your first step into the establishment that blows your apartment mini golf and everything you might of seen after completely out of the water. Going places with rich kids wasn't half bad.

* * *

You hate to admit it, and I mean, really really hate to admit it. And you hate to admit a lot of things. Admittance is probably one of you top ten hated things. Even if it was just to yourself. You wish your brain would just be complacent in your denial of everything. Sometimes it would be slower transferring things from your subconscious to your conscious for your sake, but ultimately, you were always stuck admitting the things you hated to admit to yourself.  
Be that as it may, you still hated admitting that you were actually having fun with Cat's weird friends. You love spending time with Cat and never tire of it (another thing you hated to admit), but you forgot how much fun hanging with a group of people your age was. Everything was automatically more fun in a group of peers. That's just science.  
Andre was as cool as you knew he was, constantly joining you in your ridicule of Robbie and laughing at all your jokes. Your five step best friend plan was working just as you had hoped.  
And Tori was so awkward that she actually ended up being hilarious. She almost reminds you of Carly. And then there's Robbie, who just like Freddie, you never really liked, but was there to offer someone to constantly make fun of and rag on to delight of everyone else. That was one thing they had over your old friends. Carly used to make you stop after a while, but these guys just laugh. Even Robbie laughed at himself like he knew how strange he was. Cat stopped acting weird like she promised and was her usual bubbly self. She pulled you from course to course and jumped around in a blur of red and pink. When you all first started playing, you were only mediocre, since you hadn't played mini golf in years. But as your competitive spirit began to rise, you couldn't settle for less than being better than everyone, and Cat was enthusiastic for you the entire time. Even when you missed and threw your golf club, she merely patted you on the back and handed you a new one. You like being out with her.  
She wasn't very good at mini golf, and surprised you by being even more of a sore loser than you were. For the one time you threw your club, there were four instances with her. You would run after it and bring it back to her. She would ask for your help, and you would guide her hands until she made the hole. Then you would smile and she would smile back at you, until you would feel Andre and Tori's eyes on you. And then you would have to start hurriedly walking to the next hole because you knew they were clowning you, you could just tell.  
After going to probably only half the holes that huge place had to offer, you all decide to grab some food. And it's your favorite kind of food. You loved the dubious, probably not health regulated, greasy food that places like these always seemed to have. You grab two corndogs, a cheeseburger, some fries, and a funnel cake... and a small salad after a particularly reproachful side-eye from Cat.  
You guys sit down at one of the big red wooden picnic tables in the seating area. Everyone has a significantly less amount of food than you, but you know not everyone can be a winner like yourself.  
"Tori, you're keeping track of scores, right? Who's winning?" Robbie asks in his annoying voice as he bites into the pulled pork sandwich he got.  
"You know, Robbie, why you gotta be so negative?" Cat counters before Tori can respond, her voice taking that edge it does when she's offended. Probably because she knows she's the one in last place. Not that you were likely doing much better.  
Andre takes the paper from Tori's hands. "Well, it's not you." He says, like that should be the end of the matter and eats his pizza. Tori laughs, reaching for a slice.  
Tori, Andre, and Cat had all gotten a pizza to share. You were most definitely going to have a slice when they weren't looking. Or when they were looking, you don't care. What would they do about it?  
Robbie tries to look hurt but it's hard to feel any sympathy for him when the area around his mouth is covered in barbecue sauce. Literally covered. If anything, you should be the one feeling insulted, because he's forcing you to look at him. You grimace.  
"Robbie, you've got a little..." Tori gestures toward her face to indicate the mess on his. He doesn't get it.  
"What?"  
She gestures again, more zealously. He still doesn't get it.  
"Barbecue sauce! You've got it all over your gross face, you animal!" You shout, slamming your fist on the table. You couldn't take that mess a second longer. Andre and Tori instantly start cackling. You weren't trying to be funny but you start laughing with them.  
"Oh! I probably should've gotten napkins! Be back in a sec!"  
"No one cares, Robbie!" You all keep giggling like the immature young adults you are. Just as Robbie leaves, Cat shoots up.  
"I forgot the parmesano!" She declares, and then runs off in the direction of the pizza booth.  
"We get it, Cat! You're Italian!" You say, because now you had an audience and you were hamming it up. You always knew you were funny, but every single thing that comes out of your mouth makes Tori and Andre bowl over. You guys sit there, cracking yourselves up. Maybe this wasn't such a bad idea on Tori's part. Maybe what you really needed was to get out of the house. Maybe you didn't hate her as much as you thought. Andre stops suddenly, mid-laugh, straightening up. "Oh shit." He mumbles to himself, looking at something behind you. "Beck's here."  
A graveness quickly comes to Tori's face as she looks in the same direction as Andre. "Fuck, he brought Jade." She whispers. Tori definitely didn't seem like someone who cursed, and Andre really didn't either, so whatever was behind you had to be serious business. Who were these people? How could people they had just earlier said were their friends be bringing such distress to their eyes?  
"I'm going to go talk to them." Andre says hastily and rushes away from the table in the direction that Tori continues to stare in.  
You turn around in your seat to see what the big deal is.  
"Whoa."  
Andre is talking to two very interesting characters. Actually, the one guy didn't seem interesting at all. He was your standard "pretty boy." He seemed about as interesting as an empty bucket of chicken. Yeah, there might be something to look at but there's nothing inside. It was the girl he was standing next to.  
"Did someone forget to tell your friend that it's 2015 and scene is waaaaayyy dead? Who is that bozo?"  
"Cat's ex."  
Your corndog lodges itself in your throat. You know that meme where the person is screaming internally? Well, that'd be you except you're more so fainting internally. You couldn't bear even hearing about Cat being with anyone that wasn't you.  
But as I said, while you sit in the corner in the dark holding your face like an anime character inside your head, on the outside your face only changes to that of disbelief as you whip around to look Tori in the eyes.  
"What?!" You sputter, coughing up bread and the bits of mystery meat that make up hotdogs.  
"Well... not really. They were never really dating, but they used to hook up. Long story short, Cat thought it was serious since Jade acted like she cared but all she really wanted was to get laid. She made Cat keep it secret while still chasing after Beck... It really messed Cat up."  
"What a shitty shit person." You mutter to yourself. The self pity that permeated through your entire being shifts into a rage so full it makes your breaths heavy. It feels like someone's pressing on your lungs, but you know it's the ball of anger knocking itself around your ribcage.  
"Yeah, it was really bad. You don't agree with something like that, right?"  
"That's really fucked up, what a piece of shit. Like, I know I'm a piece of shit, but I would never do something like that to Cat- or I mean, any other person in general. Why am I talking to you? Bye!"  
And if the next scene were on the show its script would read like this:

Far shot of SAM walking towards JADE, the perspective TORI would have watching from where's she's sitting.  
Medium shot of TORI as CAT walks into frame. TORI begins to look uneasy.

CAT

Hey, what's Sam doing?

TORI

See, I uh, may or may not have said something about your past with Jade,

and Sam may or may not be going over there to yell at Jade.

Cuts to close up SAM speaking to JADE. SAM is practically bearing her teeth like an animal.

SAM  
( _more of a growl than actual human words_ )

For Cat's sake, I'm giving you a chance to leave.

Five.

JADE  
( _smirks_ )

No, I think I'll stay. I'm sure Cat can't wait to see me.

Close up of SAM, actually growling now, speaking through bared teeth.

SAM

Two.

Back to close up of JADE.

JADE  
( _raises eyebrow, pointed_ )

Don't you think so?

Sam Puckell?

Return to medium shot of CAT and TORI.

CAT

Sam!

CAT's attempt to stop the confrontation is a little too late. We're treated back to the far shot of SAM and JADE as SAM hurls a punch in JADE's direction.

Quick cut to SAM sitting on the couch of her and CAT's apartment with a bruise beginning to grow under her eye.

SAM

Sorry for getting us banned from the mini golf course forever.

And you really were sorry. That golf course was one of the eight wonders of your world. And now you'd never be able to go in again because of that stupid goth girl. All the holes you didn't get to see are just going to have to live in your dreams.  
Cat is in the kitchen soaking your shirt in the sink. It still surprises you how immediately Cat adapted to and accepted your habits. The first time you had come home after a fight, she freaked out in that way that only Cat can. But by the second time, she was already prepared with a recipe learned off the internet for getting blood off clothes. And that was the concoction she submerged your shirt in now.  
There was a lot of blood. You think if there hadn't been so much blood maybe you would've been able to return to the golf course. But Jade had to go and break her nose on your fist and now your second home was gone as swiftly as it appeared.  
The cops were called. Cat had gotten you out of there before they arrived because she knew about your criminal record. You assumed it didn't count because you were in a different state. The message of your banning had to be relayed to you later from Tori. No one was pressing charges. You just didn't get to play mini golf again. Or, at least not happily. You watch Cat as she makes her way to the fridge to prepare you an ice pack. She is eerily quiet. You still haven't gotten used to it. The chastising from Carly every time you got into anything felt like only yesterday. You still expected someone to scream at you when you did something stupid. You wonder how Cat would react if you killed somebody. She'd probably already have fake IDs and tickets to a new country waiting for you. That was just the kind of person she was. You remind yourself not to abuse that and try to remember if you've ever thanked her.  
"It's okay, I'm more upset you've got this bruise under your eye now." She says, finally responding to your apology as she makes her way over to you with your vintage ice pack in hand.  
"If you think this is bad, you should see the other guy." You joke because it's making you uncomfortable how serious Cat is being right now. But she only frowns and continues to look somber.  
It was a bad joke. You broke Jade's nose and, not being phased by the amount of blood, continued wailing on her and would've done worse had Cat not pulled you off. ("Sam, that's enough, we have to go." she had said into your ear and you could see the world again. You don't know how she knows you like this. Like she's known you forever.) And the only bruise you sported was the elbow you took to the eye as she clumsily tried to scramble away. She was all bark and no bite. Like you thought. She had never been in a fight before.  
"I'm sorry, that was stupid. But once Tori told me everything, I was so mad that Jade had the nerve to show up." You're clambering for a resolve. Even though Cat accepts your awful tendencies, you feel like she shouldn't have to.  
"If anyone's stupid, it's me. I don't know why I thought everything would be okay." She presses the ice pack to your eye gently, and her voice sounds like a tree in the rain.  
You see her get lost in thought and she doesn't realize you put your hand over hers on the ice bag.  
There's a lot of things you can do in this moment. You can tell her "Hey, I got it. Thanks, " to snap her from her daydream. Or you can move the bag until she gets the hint.  
But you can't bring yourself to do either.  
Every part of your brain is screaming at you, telling you how dumb you're being right now. It's a hand hold, and barely one at that. This isn't a John Green book, it doesn't mean anything. There's no reason for you to have not moved your hand yet. This is so cheesy, so stupid, so unlike you. And though you hate to admit it, something in you needs just this. Just to hold her hand. It's not like you did it on purpose. You thought she would move her hand as soon as the switch was made but she didn't, and it's so stupid but it feels so important.  
"Oh! I'm sorry Sam!"  
She takes her hand away and you grip the ice pack tightly. Every muscle in your body is as tensed as the air around you both is. She sits beside you on the couch.  
"I guess this is why you didn't want me to meet your friends?" You chuckle uneasily. "I messed everything up."  
For the first time this evening, she meets your eyes and offers a sad smile. "No, you didn't mess anything up. Everyone loved you, like anyone would. Jade's just… not nice."  
You had a bunch of questions, but you didn't want to trouble Cat with her in such a seemingly fragile state. But you also figure that opens up for at least one.  
"Then why did you ever hang out with her?" It was a more tame version of the biggest question you had.  
She looks away from you again. "Before Tori came, Jade was my only friend, the only one that stayed. Except for Andre, he always cared, he was just so busy with music. Jade spent the most time with me, she was always embarrassing me and calling me stupid, but she always spent her time with me... And then she would touch me... And I thought it meant that she loved me. I'm so stupid!" She falls into your side and and weeps, shaking the both of you. You let go of the ice bag that was nursing a mostly superficial wound and wrap your arm around her.  
"Kid. You're not stupid." You exhale.  
"Yes, I am! I did so many bad things before I met you, Sam. Please don't hate me." She manages to get out between tears. She's looking to you again, her eyes and face soaked.  
"Why would I hate you for doing bad things? I'm the Queen of doing bad things. I basically had to leave Seattle or go to jail."  
"Really?"  
"Yeah. Here, Cat, since you told me a secret, I'll tell you one."  
Her sniffling has quieted and now she's looking at you in anticipation.  
"I was always bad, but when Carly left, I got real bad." The words are heavy as the leave your mouth. You feel like you're telling both Cat and yourself this for the first time. Like a story you forgot about. You never thought about what happened in that two month period between Carly leaving and Cat saving you.  
Wait, you meant to say you saving Cat, right?  
"Every day I went out and picked fights with random peeps. I didn't care why or who it was as long as I was fighting. And then I would steal things I didn't need. I… I almost joined a gang." You didn't think you had a selective memory but details you didn't bother remembering reveal themselves the more you speak. Had you really repressed all of that? Forgotten how truly bad you got before California?  
You shiver as your shoddy mental block continues to dissipate and you see that young guy's bloodied face looking up at you in your mind's eye. You remember the jagged glass of the discarded beer bottle you clung to digging into your hand. You remember not caring about what happened next. You remembered them chanting for you to kill him. You remember almost dying when you didn't.  
You had run home that night and shoved all your shit in a suitcase.  
You weren't going to hate Cat. She had to hate you. What's the worst thing she had done? Hooked up with Jade? You almost killed another a human being. And then you had tried to kill Jade. What the fuck is wrong with you?  
You don't know when you started shaking.  
You recoil away from Cat. You shouldn't be touching her. You grip your face in your hands. How could you have forgotten?  
"Sam?" she calls but she sounds so far away, though she's right beside you.  
"Cat, I-" This was supposed to be about making Cat feel better, but now you were just having your own mental breakdown. "I almost killed somebody."  
The words drag themselves to your lips and you become hyper-aware that this might be it. This will be the thing that makes Cat scream for you to get out of the house. The one thing that you might not be forgiven for. When you thought about her reaction to you killing someone earlier, it was purely hypothetical. But now it's here in her face, and she decides what happens to you.  
Your body continues to tremor uncontrollably without your consent. Some of it is from your recollection, but most of it is because you didn't want to show Cat such a horrible part of yourself. You knew it was there, and you knew if you were a better person, you would keep her away from it, but you weren't. You were selfish and you wanted Cat despite how comfortably badness settled in your veins.  
"It's okay."  
This time, Cat's voice is enough to stop the screaming in your head. Your hands fall from your ears in an exhaustion that hits you all at once. Your body droops like you've been hit by a truck after running a mile.  
With effort, your eyes seek out Cat's. She's stopped crying but her eyes still glisten with saltwater, ready to fall if she chooses. She looks so tired, more tired than you've ever seen her. Just as tired as you feel. And for the second time in one day, the girl who typically has the countenance of a child, appears much older, even older than her age.  
"I almost killed me."  
All the food you ate earlier feels like it's going to come back up.  
"Cat, you-" You begin to reach out to her, but at the last second, your hand falters. You hated everything that made Cat feel like this world wasn't for her, and you couldn't imagine life without her. You wanted to comfort her, but it wasn't you she needed. She needed someone better. You shouldn't touch her with such rough hands.  
"It's okay. I'm not bad anymore." Cat's hand makes its way over to your hand, the one that almost made its way to her. She interlocks your fingers, for a only a moment, and brings your hand to her face. She presses your hand to her cheek, like you originally intended and somehow she knew. You almost want to rip it away, but every movement she makes is so gentle, yet so deliberate, you can't help but go along. She could move you so easily. Instinctively, you start rubbing the wetness on her face away with your thumb. "And neither are you. Please don't leave."  
You stare at her in dumbfoundment. Half of you is so so relieved that she accepted this part of you too, but the other half is disappointed that she couldn't see how bad you were for her.  
"I couldn't even if I wanted to." Are the only words that come from your empty mind.  
Her free hand softly brushes against your bruise. Concern is deeply etched in her face. In any other circumstance, you would be mad that you seemed to make everything about you, but there's nothing in your head but Cat.  
"If you think this is bad, you should see the other guy." You breathe, repeating yourself from earlier, but this time, she laughs.

* * *

You decide you've got to quit this creepy habit you have of watching Cat while she sleeps.  
It's not like you do it on purpose, sometimes it just happens. Sometimes, you can't seem to close your eyes without first studying every detail that makes up her face. Like if you didn't memorize it, she would disappear.  
And other times, like tonight, something woke you up and you used the time until you fell back asleep to paint her over and over again in your head.  
Tonight, she was what woke you up.  
Cat was usually a pretty sound sleeper, and didn't move much (which was good considering how little space you had on your bed). But tonight, she has been rocking back and forth for the last ten minutes, mumbling something you can't understand. She's having a nightmare that you're sure will tide over soon.  
Except as she rolls herself into her back, you can see the strain on her face and it begins to worry you. Her face is streaked with tears and her movement becomes more violent.  
"Cat?" You ask, because you're stupid and you think she might be awake. She keeps fidgeting, because she's very much asleep.  
"I'm sorry." You make out these words clearly from her lips. "I'm sorry. Please don't leave." Her volume increases suddenly and sharply. "Please don't leave, I'm sorry! Please don't leave me alone!"  
Okay, now you're really freaked out. You don't know what's hurting her, but you decide it's time for it to stop.  
"Hey. Hey, Cat. Wake up!" You shake her forcefully, trying to rouse her from whatever is causing her voice to crack in pain.  
As soon as her eyes are open, she throws herself toward you, clawing at you desperately, trying to prevent an escape that wasn't occurring.  
"Sam! Please don't leave me! Please don't leave." She cries into your neck and the fabric of your shirt becomes bunched in her fists.  
You wrap your arms around her and pull her even closer to you than she already was. You guess this is just your relationship now, where you sleep together so you can soothe each other's nightmares. You hope you're helping Cat as much as she helps you. You're rougher and more awkward lines, but you hope you help.  
"I'm not going to leave kiddo. I'm always going to be there." You speak in a voice gentler than anything you thought you could muster. And you weren't lying, you would never ever leave her side. Which will make the day she leaves you that much harder.  
You kiss the top of her head and it shocks you a little bit. One, because you didn't think you would do something like that when all you've been doing is trying to avoid affection with Cat, and two, because of how strongly it makes you want to kiss her more. Which is exactly what you knew would happen.  
You stay this way for a few minutes. You hold her for as long as she needs. She cries out the rest of her tears.  
"Sam... I'm sorry. I'm sorry I woke you up and then cried all over you. This part of your shirt's all wet now." She's absolutely right. The left shoulder of your shirt is completely soaked through.  
You give a semblance of a shrug, as much as you can with your arms around her and her leaning against you.  
"It's okay..." It finally occurs to you that maybe you shouldn't call someone you wanted to be in a romantic relationship with 'kid.' Not that you had a realistic chance anyway, but you definitely weren't helping your cause any by giving off such an older sister vibe."Shortcake."  
She stops wiping her eyes and looks up at you with a small smile. "Shortcake?"  
"Yeah, like strawberry shortcake." You smile a stupid, sleepy grin.  
She buries her laugh into your neck.


	6. Haunted Houses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey it's me again, ol terrible non-consistent author... anyway, here's wonderwall

When you wake up she's still in your arms.

She gets up slowly. You can tell she's trying not to wake you, but she doesn't succeed.

“Where do you think you're going?” You grumble, knowing full and well she has to go to school, but being upset about it nonetheless.

She makes eye contact with you and smiles, accepting that she's not as sneaky as she would like. “Go back to sleep.” She whispers, before poking you on the nose playfully.

You grab her hands in mock offense. “Did you just boop me on the nose? I should bite your hands off for that!”

She tries to fight you, but you're stronger than she is, and her giggling takes away from what little strength she has. You bring her hands up to your mouth and feign bites.

You don't know why you're doing this. Some part of you is pretending. Pretending that she was in your arms this morning because she loved you and not because you had a mutual fear of the dark.

Cat manages to rip her hands away from you but you're too fast. Before she has a chance to enjoy her newfound freedom, you're already pouncing on her and attacking her where you know she's most ticklish. She convulses wildly and almost catches you in the face.

“Sam! Stop! I can't breathe!” She cries out between her fits of laughter.

Despite the smile on your face, your chest tightens with what could only be sadness. You ignore it and shove it down, like everything else, and continue to focus on making yourself as close to Cat as physically possible. Your motives are irrelevant.

She hunches over and draws her limbs in close, trying to prevent you from carrying on this one sided battle. You give up. She's surprised it worked.

You rest your head in the crook of her neck, and let your arms loosely encircle her, leaving them where they fell.

Cat sighs and unravels herself, leaning back into you.

You're breathing her in and she's so sickeningly sweet, and you're in so much pain.

“...do you think you'll be okay today? In school?” You're not necessarily whispering, but you're not speaking at a normal volume either. Your mouth was right by her ear, you didn't really have to.

“Yes.” She sighs again. “I'll be fine.” She hugs your arms to her and your self control hits an all time low. You feel you'll either throw up or kiss her. “Thank you.”

You did this to yourself and now you're going to lose it. You thought holding her close would be enough. But holding her close just made you realize how much you wish you weren't pretending. It wasn't a safe game. Your heart sits in your throat and there's nothing you can do about it.

“No problem, Shortcake.” You say and you let her go. Because you have to. Because she isn't yours.

Cat gets up to walk over to her side of the room to get ready for the day. Your brain breaking in two becomes your demanding company. But you don't really know how to deal with anything, as evidence has shown time and time again, so you roll over and force yourself back to sleep.

It's a lot harder without the warmth of your more preferred demanding company.

* * *

You wake up again and you're alone in the apartment. You don't check. You just know. Everything feels different when she's not here.

Isn't that one of the most disorienting feelings? Waking up and being completely alone? Especially when you weren't by yourself when you fell asleep. It's like your body can tell and fills you with a sense of dread that forces your eyelids to flutter open. And then everything looks and feels sinister to your gradually awakening mind.

As you sit up slowly in your bed, this dread morphs itself into a terrible longing. And then, eventually, that makes way for an anger you can't swallow.

For once in your life, you mind. As I've mentioned, you're really good at being angry, and anger is almost always a welcomed state. It gets things done. But this anger is different. Those feelings of sorrow and longing still lie underneath, blending themselves together seamlessly.

Usually, you can just beat up whatever the cause of your anger is and be okay. But this, this is something intangible, ungraspable. Unfightable. Like a ghost.

This twists and morphs itself into things you barely know, like regret and shame, lining your very bones. You don't know those things, you don't know how they steep into your blood so expertly, as if they already know the way to your fingers and to your heart.

But then, like someone realizing they've stumbled onto train tracks only after seeing lights heading towards them, you remember the only other time you had known.

Like the ghost you trailed after, you barely made a sound as you walked up the fire escape. You had run away, but now you were back.

When you slipped into the window you had come through a thousand times, Carly met your eyes but didn't say anything to you. And you couldn't recall how to move your lips either. That was, until they were pressed against hers.

You can't recall if it was her or her shadow you followed to the bed. Your senses were dulled, and your eyes were red, and her blankets were heavy.

It was slow and passionate. But desperate too. You both felt so hollow. Like it was the last chance you had to find something in one another.

When it was over, she cried into your neck. And you just stared at the ceiling, watching it move.

 

You jump out of bed. You weren't startled, but you hoped maybe actual kinetic action would make running away from that memory easier.

You aren't ready to think about that.

You need a distraction. Well, what you really need is to do your schoolwork. But you grab your pearphone instead, dialing quickly. As long as you get it done before midnight tonight, you'll be fine, right?

The other line rings only twice before picking up.

“Hello, Sam!” That warm and peculiar southern accent sings from your phone.

You didn't think this would be your first call in a crisis.

“Hey, Goomer. Are you at Punchy’s?” You stumble. You hope you didn’t sound as messed up as you felt.

“Hold on, let me check.” You hear movement on the line and various other sounds you can't immediately identify. He picks back up. “That's the place where I go and people punch me, right?”

A very slight bit of your tension melts away as you can't help but to laugh. Maybe you did make the right call. “That sounds like the place.”

“Okay, then yes. I'm at the gyyyym.”

Thank God. “Meet you there in a few.”

“But, Sam, I'm already here.”

“Goodbye, Goomer.”

You hang up the phone before he has the chance to get any more confused than he already always is.

You know this isn't something you can punch away, but God dang it if you weren't going to try.

* * *

 You hop off your bike after a haphazard park job, in a space that wasn't necessarily dedicated to parking. With motorcycles, you can park anywhere though, or, at least, that's what someone might've told you at some point. You don't care to give it much thought.

You speed walk it to the entrance of Punchy’s, but in, like, a cool way. Just because you were trying to hold your parts together didn’t mean that everyone had to know that you were coming undone. You’re still cool, even if you were having some particularly uncool thoughts.

The air conditioning hits you as you open the door, saving you from the LA heat. The tradeoff, however, is the intense smell of sweat that invades your nose. At some point in your trip, you’ll forget about it, but at the moment, it’s offensive.

“Hey, Sam!”

Your attention is taken away from the odor as the friendly giant walks into your vision. He must’ve been waiting for you. He didn’t do well without direction. You’re surprised he came to Punchy’s without Dice.

“Sup Goom.”

He walks to give you to a hug but you put your hand out.

“Ugh, no. This place stinks and you don’t smell much better.”

He looks down at himself in curiosity before bringing his shirt collar up to his nose. He winces. “Bleh, you’re right. We’ll hug after I shower?”

“No.”

He shrugs his shoulders. Nothing ever got under his skin. He and it were too dense. “So what brings you here? Dice send you to check up on me?”

His drawl is so slow and odd. You wonder if he ever told you where he’s from. If he did, you probably forgot, because that’s the kind of person you are.

“I just want to punch some stuff.” You walk towards the training area and Goomer follows. For someone with such long legs, he's always trying to catch up. “I've got something on my mind.”

Nodding vigorously, he takes a seat on a bench by one of those little punching bags. There's a technical name for it, but you don't know it. "Like how everyone always sees pigeons but never any pigeon babies?"

You freeze in your stride. "Okay. Now I've got two things on my mind." You stick your hands in your pockets and look up to the ceiling. He was totally right. You had never seen a baby pigeon in your life. And you used to live in the city! You've never even seen one of them make a nest or go back to one. Where did more pigeons come from? A hive? Clones? Like bananas??

"You want to taco bout it?"

You're brought back to Earth. You grasp the little punching bag in front of you, now looking to him. Goomer seems like a good listener. But your problem is that you're not a good talker.

How could you explain feeling incapable of being with person you craved with every beating of your heart to someone like Goomer? How could **_you_ ** explain it to anyone? You barely knew yourself what was storming inside you. And your pride would never let any of the fog slip past your lips.

“You know what? Nevermind, let's just spar."

He nods and stands.

“Taps. Because you can see I’ve already got this gnarly bruise on my face and I don’t need any more.”

He nods again. Talking to him about this kind of stuff was easy. “Should I grab you some gear?”

“Yeah,” This is the part where you nod. “But only boxing though.”

"What?” He gapes. “Sam, you know MMA is my specialty!"

And he's right, you do know that. His strength and size made him perfect for grappling and holds, but he was super slow. You could probably hit him at least three times before one of his swings reached you.

Although, it’s SUPER vital that you don't let him reach you.

You guys did agree to only taps, but Goomer is like one of those big dogs that don't know their own strength, and you have no doubt that if one of his punches actually landed, something of yours was going to break. So you just have to move quick.

That's how you won most of your fights with people twice your size, by being faster and angrier.

"Come on Goom, only twenty touches.”

"That's not fair!"

He's right again. It isn't fair. That's kind of messed up that, just because you're in a bad mood, you want to beat up on your friend whose only mistake was answering when you called.

You sigh.

“Okay. Fifteen.”

He doesn't look entirely pleased with that response, though less upset than before.

“Come on, Goom! If I make it any less than that, I'll beat you too fast!”

They always say honesty is the best policy. And maybe they're right, or maybe it's the slight impatient edge that sneaks into your voice, but he finally relents.

“Okay, Sam. Only to take your mind off of pigeon babies.”

He leaves you to go grab some gloves for the both of you. You make your way over to the ring, or whatever you call that cage thing, to wait for him. Some other people were about to try to use it, but you've always had a knack for convincing people to see things your way.

A few people would say your persuasion looks mostly like threatening, but potato potato. The second one is pronounced like poe-tah-toe in case you didn't catch the colloquialism.

You stalk around the entrance to the ring, pacing. Half of your mind was solely dedicated to thinking about how much you wanted Cat, but the other half was repeating loudly that you couldn't have her. You regret telling Goomer you wanted to do taps. If he knocked you unconscious, at least you'd get a little relief.

Or maybe even a nice coma. Yeah. A coma sounds good right about now.

“I got your gloves!” Goomer exclaims, magically appearing in front of you.

Although, you probably just didn't see him because you were too busy fantasizing about shutting your brain off. Your angry, yelling brain.

You shove the gloves on hurriedly and with little grace. You practically leap into the ring, your skin vibrating with an anxiety that threatened to rip you apart if you didn't keep it moving.

Goomer follows you in. Warily, I might add. He stares at the entrance, his face taking on as much of a contemplative look as it could. He glances at you, but you are not doing anything to help his concerns. You are glaring at the ground, pacing once again, and knocking your fists together. He woefully shuts the door.

He puts his fists up immediately, in defense, but his stance isn't solid. He's nervous. “Okay, Sam, we agreed to taps, remember?”

You nod, bringing your gloves up as well. Trying to speak is almost painful, your mind continuously jumping elsewhere. Thinking about things that hurt. You didn't want to think at all. You step towards Goomer.

He backs up, but your fist is already flying towards him. You remember that it's taps but you can't control your hands. They burst away from your body as your brain buries anything but physical movement. You focus only on your hands moving in front of you, your first five hits passing in an instant, rumbling into your friend.

Goomer is mostly blocking, but you are no longer looking to him. He is unfortunately no match for the punches that accompany every time her face appears in your head. You were going to hit him until you didn't see her anymore.

Goomer leans unsteadily to the side, trying to avoid your wrath, but you take the opportunity to get two more taps to his head. Fortunately, you had enough self control left to stop the impacts from being full on hits to his face. Those two were the only genuine taps of the round.

You stagger and your breath feels weighted, like it can barely pass through your lungs. You try to make out your friend in front of you through the sweat that falls into your eyes. You almost miss him rearing back, your pausing giving him a chance. But you're too fast and too angry.

You dodge his swing easily (he wasn't aiming for your head so he wouldn't have knocked you out anyway), stepping quickly to the side of him. When he passes you, you stick your leg back in front of him, regaining your stance.

Your last three hits pass in an instant. He barely has time to register them before he's on the ground. The final hit to his stomach bowling him over.

You stand over him aggressively, forgetting he's your friend in your rage and victory. “AND THAT'S HOW YOU BOX. YOU MESSED UP GETTING IN A CAGE WITH FUCKING CHAMPION.”

He looks up to you, his lip quivering, in a comical way, not a sad way, and you finally see him.

“Oh shit, Goom.” You stick out a hand to help him up. “Best two out of three?”

“Oh no! No thank you!” And he scrambles out of the ring, not even taking your offer of a help up. He trips out the door in his rush.

* * *

“Didn't mean to go crazy earlier.”

“It's okay,” Goomer smiles, eating one of the onion rings you treated him to in lieu of an apology.

You're sitting in the same booth they always seem to put you in at Bots. You had a matching plate of onion rings in front of you.

“I know you were thinking about something and didn't mean it.”

You appreciate his understanding but you still feel bad. It's not like you didn't do anything you both didn't agree to, but you felt like you had been unnecessarily harsh to a friend. You were so angry at yourself for being the way you are and yet, you just did more horrible things in anger.

“Yeah. It didn't really help.”

He frowns at you. “Want to taco bout it now?”

You stare at him, not really knowing what choice to make.

He picks up two onion rings and holds them in front of his eyes like deep fried glasses. “I'm all ears.”

You shake your head, but can't help but laugh. “Those are your eyes, Goom.”

He shoves the onion rings into his mouth, looking at your disapprovingly. “It's an expression, Sam.” He says matter-of-factly.

You laugh again but your smile dissipates quickly. Should you try to tell him? Maybe if you at least attempted to say it out loud, you'd be able to make sense of it yourself.

You pull one of the napkins on the table towards you, and take the marker you always carried in case of a vandalism emergency out of your pocket. “Okay, so you know Cat,” you scribble a quick doodle of her as a stick figure.

Goomer scooches closer so he can see what you're working on. You add two swoops for hair and hold it up to him.

“She's like this.”

He nods seriously, you can see he's trying to understand where you're going.

You bring the napkin back down. “But you see me, I'm like this-” You scratch the marker deeply into the paper, drawing the sprawling black cloud you saw in your dreams and in bedrooms. You stare at it for a moment before sliding it over to Goomer. “We don't fit.”

He picks it up, his other hand grabbing more onion rings. He regards it thoughtfully. You slouch back into the booth.

“That's because you drew you wrong.” He says finally.

“What?”

“You didn't draw you good. If you draw you good like you did Cat, then you'll fit.” He puts the napkin down, satisfied with his answer. But you are not.

“You mean, you don't see me like this?” You point to the dark patch.

He shakes his head.

“Even though I beat you up?”

He nods his head. “Here, let me see.” He reaches over and takes your marker, and also a blank napkin for his own. He starts to draw on it. “You just gotta draw you better. Like, heeeeerrree’ss you… aaaaaaannd Cat. You're holding hands. And then there's me…” He loses himself in his work, his tongue sitting on the side of his month in concentration.

You feel there is some significance to what he's saying but you're not smart enough to know what it is. You watch him in his creation, holding the marker in his fist like a child.

“And Dice! See?” Now it's his turn for a reveal. He puts it in front of you. “There's all of us. And you fit.” He smiles, proud of his stick figures and the extra detail you can see went into drawing Dice’s curls. “You can have it since this one is better.”

You take it from him. “Thanks.” You mumble. Looking at it makes you feel weird, but you stare anyway.

“No prob Bob!” He moves to eat the rest of his onion rings, but stops and slams a hand on his pocket. “Phone call!”

He answers as you fold the napkin up and put it in your pocket.

“Hey, Dice!”

There's a pause. You pile onion rings into your mouth but your heart’s not in it. Which means something is really wrong. No matter what, you were always about food.

“I just came from the gym. Now I'm at Bots with Sam!”

Your brain registers who he's speaking to, because, obviously, you weren't paying attention at first.

“Hey, Goom, tell Dice he shouldn't be making phone calls during school!”

“Dice, Sam says you shouldn't be making phone calls during school.” He listens, before looking to you and covering the mouth piece. “He says school let out fifteen minutes ago. He's coming here now.”

You hastily check your own pearphone for the time. “Shit.” It was a little after three. Cat would be home soon, if she wasn't already there. You stand up. “I gotta go,” you throw a twenty onto the table. “This should cover the both of us! Later!”

And you're grabbing your bag and rushing out with a very unceremonious bye. Goomer would be fine, he had food and Dice was on his way.

* * *

It was five o'clock, and by some miracle, you were almost done your schoolwork. Probably because Cat still wasn't back and it was the best distraction you had.

Granted, you were only giving it maybe 50% of your attention. However, that was 25% more than it usually was. The other 50% was wondering where she could be and if she was okay, and being angry that she hadn't shown up yet.

It's when you're at the bottom of your last chemistry page that she bursts in.

“Honey, I'm home!” she exclaims, throwing her bag on the couch and immediately heading over your way.

“Where were you?” You grunt. You wanted to hide how upset you were but you couldn't seem to.

You grab the island to steady yourself. She bounds over to you, completely oblivious to her wrongdoing.

“I was with Robbie!” She sings.

You blink hard, your eyes staying closed for a moment. This is weird. You feel so helpless, and that only makes you angrier. You don't know why you can't get a grip, and why you're allowing yourself to get so worked up. You want your chest to listen to you and stop thumping, but it won't.

“You were with that nerd?” You also fail to stop the vitriol from dripping from every word.

She reaches out to you, her hand aiming for your face, like she can't feel the heat radiating off of you. You move away at the last second, so she meets the air. She frowns. You avoid her eyes so you won't see the hurt. You were hurting too.

“We had a project due so we had to finish it all today.” She's speaking softly to you now.

“Yeah, well, there's these things called phones that can let people know what's going on.”

Her eyes furrow together, her hand finally going to her side. “What's gotten into you?”

You finally meet her eyes. You've accomplished nothing but making you both upset. “Nothing. I'm like this.”

You walk away before she can respond, grabbing your laptop, and heading towards your room.

You can feel her watching you. She's staring at you and you know she's probably doing that thing where she holds her breath, because she thinks if she focuses hard enough, she can make people face her.

It only ever works on you.

Your anger leaves just enough room for you to feel guilty. You really didn't know what you were doing or why you were being this way. You turn to her.

“I'm sorry.” You look everywhere but her face. “I've been feeling sick, I'm just gonna lay down.”

You wait for her gentle “Okay,” before slipping into the room.

You jump into your bed, inadvertently laying on your laptop that you still carried in your hands. Your face goes directly into your pillows, hoping to smother yourself.

You're letting her sleep here too often, because the smell of her immediately invades your nose. Your stomach lurches.

You wanted to scream, but you wouldn't even know what to scream. Your brain was just all loud questions marks. And if you had to say anything, it would only be “WHAT THE FUCK???! WHAT!! THE!! FUCK!???¿ WHAT IS GOING ON!!!?“ (like that post you've probably seen on the Internet).

Your phone vibrates and you're positive it's Cat, wanting to torment you some more. You rip your phone from your pocket and see it's even worse than that.

Why was Carly emailing you about video chatting? You had spoken to her only a few days ago. Was the whole world trying to fuck with you?

You want ignore it but she's practically begging. You roll onto your back, sit up, and fling your laptop open aggressively. You just wanted a break. And you didn't seem to getting one anytime soon.

You try to let the sound of the dial tone on the video program calm you. It doesn't work. Carly’s face shows up your screen.

“Hey, Sam! What are you up to? I've missed you!”

Why was she doing this? Why was this happening? Why did she have to want to speak with you during this time?

“I missed you too,” You say through what feels like gritted teeth. It feels like you’re lying. Your head was constantly spinning with thoughts of Cat, she had barely ran through your mind. So from that, comes the guilt, and with it, more anger.

“Anything exciting happening in California?” She’s way too peppy for you to handle right now. It’s like you’re going insane and everyone is just watching, completely normal.

“No.”

She makes a face at you, her lips tightening and her brow furrowing in confusion. She opens her mouth to say something, probably along the lines of questioning your behavior, but stops, looking off to the right (your right, her left) at what seems to be the sound of a door opening.

"Hey, Dad! I’m just pearchatting with Sam!” She speaks off to the side of her laptop. A deep voice responds. General Shay. Her father.

The thought hits a sour note within you.

You had only met the man a few times in your life but you didn’t like him. Not for anything abhorrent in his personality, but for his beliefs.

You watch as they converse, Carly nodding her head at what’s likely lecturing from the unseen source, but you are not listening.

It frustrates you that you can see him in her. Their eyes are the same. His eyes are not hard and callous, as you would expect from someone like that, but bright and comprehensive, just like Carly’s.

You wish Carly wasn’t so much like her dad. You wish she had been stronger, like you.

Your body works without you, balling your fists up. Your knuckles are turning white when you finally notice. And your jaw aches from the clenching you had unknowingly done.

"And tell Sam I said, hello!” are the words that finally bring you back to Earth, disturbed at your name coming from his mouth. Carly looks to you. You prop your middle finger up.

“She says hi!" She glances back up at him, chuckling nervously. She swallows and the air is thick as she anxiously waits for him to leave the room.

A moment passes before she’s staring you down again. "I know my dad might be a little…” She searches for the right word. “Prejudiced, but he's a really good guy. He really likes you, Sam."

You audibly blow air out your nose. "Yeah, but I don't think he would like me so much if he knew I took his perfect daughter's virginity."

Her mouth falls open and she frantically peeks at the doorway. "Oh my god, Sam! He left the door open, he could've heard you!"

You cross your arms. "So?"

Her face twists like you’re the dumbest person on the planet. "He's kind of my only way of staying in Italy! I wouldn't want to give him any reason to send me back when I haven't even finished my first semester! This where I go to school, this is my future! God, you're so thoughtless!" She says the last part with so much vehemence, like it’s something she has believed forever and it’s been waiting to burst from her lips.

You let it hit you. "Is that all you got?"

She was not expecting that response, and actually stops looking angry for a moment in her surprise. “What?"

You’ve always had a deeper voice, but right now it feels like you’ve been gargling gravel. "Is that all you got? I'm thoughtless? Okay. I'm mean, selfish, careless. I'm violent! And I'm going nowhere! Let's list all the reasons you didn't stay!"

She’s right back to mirroring you in your anger, except her eyes are glistening and incredulous. "God, Sam, it wasn't like that”

You’re snowballing. You’re making everyone cry and you want to stop, but you can’t. Maybe if your mom had taught you proper coping skills none of this would be spilling up and over. "Then what was it like?"

"I left because it was a chance to see my dad! Because I could go to a good school! Because-because-"

"Because you couldn't see a future with me?"

And there it is. The thought you had never allowed yourself to think, but still found you in clouds of black.

Neither of you speak for neither of you know what to say now.

“What's gotten into you?” She breathes, after what seems like a thousand years.

“Why does everyone keep asking that?? I'm like this!” You slam your fist on the bed next to your laptop.

Carly runs her hand through her hair, glaring up at the ceiling. Even with the average camera quality, you can clearly see the tears running down her face.

Your voice cracks. "You didn't even let me try to be better."

She sighs. It’s a big one that you also feel she’s been holding in. "Sam... please don't..."

"I won't."

And just like with everything, you let her end it. It would’ve been easy if you had slammed the call off in a rage, but you wanted her to take some responsibility.

You’re left there, sitting in your bed and breathing hard, staring at a blank screen for minutes before you hear your door creak open.

Cat pokes her head in. She verifies that you are no longer speaking with anyone before slipping into your bedroom. She sits down on her own bed.

"That didn't sound good." She comments, her voice quiet and her hands fidgeting with the hem of her dress.

You had been so angry at her earlier, but the amount of anger you held at Carly and at yourself made it pale in comparison. Not to mention you feel like you’ve scared her, and that’s why she sat so far away. "What? Psh, no. We just like to yell at eachother sometimes." You both avoid eye contact.

She nods. Then she presses her hand into her bed. She makes a job out of gripping her blanket and releasing it, like kids pull up grass when they sit in fields.

You both want to say something. But you both remain quiet instead, and whatever it is hangs around your ears, ringing.

Cat meets your eyes first. "Wanna go get some chicken?"

After such a long day, those simple words were music to your ears. You stagger to your feet. “Hell. Yes.”

And as you're walking out the door, she grabs your hand. You don't pull away.


	7. Mechanics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: boom boom boom now let me here you say wayo *listens intently for chorus of wayos and reviews over crickets cuz it's been a while*

“I’m actually surprised Cat told you I could fix your car, cuz the last time I was working on my bike at the apartment, she freaked the fuck out!”

“Really? Why?”

“I don’t know, cuz I was all sweaty and covered in grease and she didn’t want me to dirty up the furniture or something!”

“Sounds like your deduction skills could use some work.”

“Hmm, oh, well, uh, lemme see… I can DEDUCE that if I rip this tube and this tube away from your engine, you won’t be able to drive your car again.”

“Point taken.”

You suck your teeth in satisfaction and lean back into Tori’s car. She stood off to the side like she might be helping, but so far, she had only been a nuisance. You wanted her to go away more than anything.

“So,” Tori begins, because obviously she isn't a mind reader. “What's your favorite color?”

“Red.” You grunt back, trying to tune Tori out and focus on disconnecting the wires from the solenoid of her starter. It's like she wants you to fuck her car up so it never runs again. Though changing a starter is a fairly simple operation, it would be even easier with quiet. 

She makes an exaggerated intrigued noise. “Like Cat’s hair?”

“Like blood.” 

As you struggle more than you should, you realize that the bolts on the starter are a different size than the ones on the battery. You were using the wrong size wrench. If Tori is going to stand out here and hover, she might as well help you.

“Make yourself useful and pass me the ⅜ wrench, would ya?” You moreso demand than ask.

You listen to the calamity that is a girl who's probably never had to fix a thing in her life dig through a tool bag. After a minute or so of rummaging, she finally holds up the very wrong sized wrench.

“This one?” Tori asks, her voice uncertain.

“No. That's too small.”

Que more sounds of metal knocking against other metal.

“This one?” 

“Nope. Too big.”

She lets out an irritated sigh.

“Try the one that says ⅜.”

She looks up at you and glowers, before picking up the wrench holder and grabbing exactly what you asked for. All the measurements are on there, you don't know why she didn't do that in the first place.

The corners of your lips turn up in a smug smile. “Thanks.” You lean back into the car. “I can't believe you guys don't just have an adjustable wrench like normal people.”

Tori walks closer to you so that she's almost beside you, watching over your shoulder like she'll have any idea what's going on. “Hey, this is all we had! I'm not the one who left their wrench at home!”

In your mind’s eye, you can see the exact spot on the ground where the wrench lay, right by the place you usually parked your motorcycle. You scowl. 

“Tori. Space.”

She takes what barely counts as a step back, nodding. “Right, right.”

You rip the new starter from its package, moving your arms wildly in hopes that it would convince Tori to back further away. 

She doesn't. 

But at least she wasn't speaking anymore.

You put the new starter in place and begin to secure it with the retainer bolts. After this, all you really had to do was reattach it to the solenoid and then the battery. Wasn't lying about it being simple. 

“It's just funny you mention space,” Tori, like an unstoppable force, announces from your side. You almost audibly groan, but resolve to ignore her instead. She was obviously going to keep going by all means. “Because Cat mentioned the other day that you've been letting her sleep in your bed. It's a twin, right?”

You jolt straight up, forgetting where you are, only reacting to the immediate attack on your character. And for it, you slam your head right into the hood of Tori’s car. The wrench you were holding in your hand goes flying, falling down in between the engine and various other pipes, as if it also wanted to ruin your day. You become only autonomic responses as your left hand goes to press against your head and your right shoots down to somehow catch the wrench. You chance a look into the engine as if it will help. 

Your mind finally catches up to your body, and, like usual, it is angry. You slam your fists on the rim of the car, gaping at Tori. “What do you want?” You demand.

She shakes her head, confused. “I don't- I don't know what you mean?”

"You know, we don't have to talk? You don't have to stand out here while I do this."

"But I want us to be friends! I want to get to know the famous Sam Puckett!" She says with an inappropriate amount of grandiose.

That couldn't be the honest reason why she was being annoying. "Why?"

"Because you're my best friend's roommate."

Ah. It seems that really is it. You don't understand it. You don't care about knowing her. Even if she is Cat's best friend. 

Wait a minute… 

She's Cat's best friend!

"Like you said, I'm famous. Everything you need to know about me is on the Internet. Now, your 'best friend' on the other hand…” You pause, for drama, and to make it seem organic. But you already know exactly where you want to take this conversation. “I don't know anything about her."

"...Sam, you guys have been living together for almost a year what do you mean" Tori says with zero inflection in her voice.

You shake your head. "No, I mean, I know her now. I know the Cat now, but I don't like, know her before. Like that whole," You make a lazy wave with your hand. "Jade thing. And stuff like that."

"She's never talked about her past?" 

"I didn't even know she had friends besides me, Tori." You say dryly, like she was being stupid. 

"Oh. That's weird."

You nod and go back to reattaching her new starter to its solenoid. Once again, you pause, and once again, for the drama.

“Like, yesterday.”

“Hmmm?” Tori hums as her curiosity has obviously been sparked.

“She came home late, or whatever, she said her and that dork had a project.”

“Yeah, some stupid guitar thing they always do. Everybody hates it.” Tori leans against the side of the car you're not actively working on.

“So there's like…” You're having a harder time sounding casual. You clear your throat. Casually though. “Nothing going on with Cat and your freaky puppet friend?”

You glance at Tori before averting your eyes and focusing on the cool (and kind of sweaty) metal of the wrench against your hand. Her lips purse, like she's holding back laughter.

“Oh my God, Robbie?” She lets it out, even going so far as to grab her stomach, bowling over. Your hand tightens around the wrench.

After at least thirty seconds of Tori in hysterics, she finally stands up straight, wiping what may be a single tear from her eye. “Oh my God. Oh my God, Sam, no.”

“So no like?”

“No like not in a million years! Girls that look like Cat don't date dudes that look and act like Robbie.”

You feel in control of your body again. As if some weight has been removed from the space between your skin and your blood. You become aware of the meekness in your stance and throw a hard look back onto your face. “Good. So I don't have to kick his ass.”

You try to sound gruff enough to end the conversation but, Tori is fucking weird, and she actually steps closer to you, like she's going to share a secret. 

“Why would you kick his ass?” She asks, in an accusatory way, her voice almost a whisper.

You twists the bolts on the starter solenoid, giving your full attention to it. “Because,” You stop to attend to a particularly stubborn bolt. “He's got...” Twist. “One of those faces...” Twist. “That needs its ass kicked.”

Tori nods, crossing her arms and leaning back against the car. You watch her out of the corner of your eye, nervously peeking over. An uncool amount of sweat collects at your brow.

God! There was a time in your life when you would've beat up someone like Tori! And yet, here she is, and she has you on the ropes. And you can't even place why. She, with a glint in her eyes, just made you anxious. Have you really gotten this soft?

“If I didn't know any better,” Tori pauses, and you can feel that it's for the drama. “I'd say you like Cat.”

This time, when the wrench goes flying, you let it. This time, both of your hands go to your head because you're positive you have a concussion. “Fuck!”

“Holy shit!” You still didn't take Tori as someone who cussed, but she's probably just worried about your brain. “You totally like Cat!”

Oh. Well then.

“I'm gonna fucking kill you!” You scream and throw a hand her way, which she easily dodges, because your eyes are still shut and you were only approximating her location.

Like a kid throwing a tantrum, you tire yourself out. You feel pathetic. You rest your forehead directly onto the engine. Maybe the fumes will kill you.

“Oh my God, Sam,” You hear Tori’s voice, because she is fucking relentless! “Are you in love with Cat?”

You shrug. If you were going to be a petulant child, you weren't going to half ass it.

You feel Tori’s hand on your shoulder and- why isn't she scared of you?? What happened to your edge? You give up.

“Sam?”

You loll your head up in the most dejected way you can muster, facing Tori with your shoulders low.

“Are you in love with Cat?”

Big sigh. Another shrug. “Yeah, whatever.”

You're beginning to think Tori is even worse at reading people than you are, because despite your aura of overt miserableness, she gets the biggest smile on her face, practically jumping up and down. “I knew it!”

Wow, you really want to punch her. More than you have anyone else. Even Robbie.

You pick the wrench up off the ground. But instead of following your initial instinct to throw it at her, you put the bolts in for the battery. She was moving too much in celebration that you’d likely miss anyway.

“So,” Tori finally comes down from her whooping and hollering. “When did it happen?”

You ignore her. All you had left was one more bolt and then you could bolt right out of this situation. Not matter what Cat asked of you in the future, you would never be caught alone with Tori again. And here you were, initially overjoyed that Andre and Cat offered to take the kid you were supposed to be babysitting to the mall, and all you had to do was fix a car. You made a poor choice. You feel set up.

“Sam?”

You sigh. The job was finally done, but you have a feeling Tori’s not going to let you leave easily. You stand up straight, turning your back to lean against the car. “When we met, I guess? I dunno. She fell into my arms… And I guess,” You shrug. “I guess it was then.”

Tori gasps, clasping her hands together. You swear you see stars in her eyes like a freaking cartoon character. “Oh my god, like love at first sight!”

“Tori, I’m gonna hit you. So hard.”

You wonder why you haven’t already. You’ve thought about it several times at this point. Is it maybe that, somewhere deep down, you really wanted to talk about this? With anyone? Even Tori? It’s not like you can tell Carly, and you and Freddie were barely ever friends.

“Sorry, sorry! But Sam,” She pats you on the shoulder, like you’re friends. “Why haven’t you told her?”

You wince, but manage to turn your face away at the same time so she can’t see. Tori definitely is as stupid as you when it comes to people. Yeah, maybe not her.

You turn around and grab the hood. Hopefully she gets the hint, because you’re not warning her. “I don’t want to talk about this with you.” You slam it close.

Tori shakes her head, like she doesn’t get it. Which, she doesn’t, and you’re not going to explain. “Doesn’t it hurt you?”

You hands dig into the metal. Your teeth begin to grind.

“Anyone with eyes can see how you look at each other. But when she’s not looking back at you, and you’re just staring at her, you look like you’re in pain. And if it hurts you, you should just t-”

You smash your fist onto the hood, the jarring noise startling Tori, and whip around so your faces are only a few inches apart. “I’m  **not** talking to you about this.” You spit through bared teeth, your nostrils flaring. Your upper body heaves with the sudden bout of labored breathing, your finger threateningly pointing into Tori’s chest. 

She clears her throat. “Sorry. Sorry.” She finally steps back enough so you get the personal space you had been craving all evening.

You face the windshield. “Start your car.”

“Huh?” Tori asks. You must've really shaken her up just now. You might've overreacted, but it doesn't feel like it. She was trying to delve into a subject without even considering if you were okay with it. Which you weren't. It was a clumsy move. 

You roll your eyes. “Start. Your. Car.”

“Oh! Okay!” Tori hops into her Civic and puts the keys into the ignition. The engine rolls over smoothly when she turns it, coming to life immediately.

“Wow! You totally fixed it!” She says, as if she ever had a reason to doubt you. You didn't learn how to hotwire cars from your uncle and spend afternoons in his shop to not know how to do a basic starter fix. “Thanks so much, Sam!”

“Yup.” You grab your tool bag. “I'm gonna leave now. If Cat comes here tell her I went home.” You didn't have a reason to hang with Tori any longer.

“Wait!” She shuts the car off and opens the door, tripping on the way out. “Let me get you some food or something for payment! We have sandwiches.”

You raise a hand. “I've been eating a lot of sandwiches lately. No thanks.” Normally, food would get you to agree to almost anything, but you really had been eating a lot of sandwiches, and you wanted to get away from Tori that badly. Before she tried to dissect you further, and make you think about the things you never thought. 

“I meant subs, not sandwiches. My mom got these premium cold cuts or something.”

You stop dead in your tracks. You internally scold yourself, but turn around to face Tori anyway. You're a strong person, but not strong enough to turn away free subs. Even if they were from Tori. Instead of a spoken response, you give her a “lead the way” motion. 

Both of your footsteps crunch up the walkway, hers first and yours slightly behind. She slows, so you're in sync, and you hate it. She looks like she wants to say something, and you hate that too. 

“Hey, sorry for being so,” She glances at the ground. “Invasive.”

“It's whatever.” You say, although it certainly is not whatever, and you want to give her a piece of your mind. But only a piece, maybe 20%, because 30% was thinking about subs and 50% decided it was your turn to ask questions. “I still don't know things, so you'll be paying me in subs and secrets.”

She nods like that's fair, opening the door. You walk in after her, and she immediately goes to the fridge. Cat must've told her you don't like to wait for food. 

“You can wash your hands at the sink here, if you want.” Tori says, having moved to the counter with all her supplies in hand. She nods her head towards the sink to her right.

You gotta be honest, you totally did not even think about that. But you do it nonetheless, because you don't think engine grease is a good condiment for a sandwich.

You dry your hands on the nearest cloth item, not knowing or caring if that's its purpose. You lean against the counter, casually. “So.”

Tori chances a look at you, her eyebrow raising, before returning to the task at hand of making subs. Her tenacity wasn't always terrible. “So?”

“Cat, uh, Cat told me the other night,” You hit your fist against your open hand, looking to the ceiling. “She told me,” You clear your throat, and suddenly the spot behind your ear is very itchy. “She tried to kill herself?”

She doesn't look up to you this time, but the hand that was working on chopping tomatoes hesitates. “Oh.” She resumes her tomato slicing.

You’re like,  _ what the fuck???  _ Because, like, what the fuck??? That wasn’t a response at all, and she’s continuing to make sandwiches as if you hadn’t even said anything. Although, the atmosphere of the room has changed, and now it’s grave, like Tori’s voice when she spoke.

But still, you wanted her to have more to say, so you would know how to deal with this. The one time when you were  _ actually _ counting on her motormouth tendencies, she decides to be tight-lipped. You don’t know what you want to know, but you need to know something. Anything.

She finishes up, separating the prepared subs on two red plates, even making the extra touch of adding chips on the side. You feel like you might reach out and strangle her.

She places a plate in front of you, and sits down, pulling the other to herself. But she doesn’t move to eat, doesn’t even look like she has much of an appetite. You sit down beside her, and you’re the most patient you’ve ever been. She scratches her eyebrow. 

“Well,” She pauses. “I don’t think Cat ever actually  _ tried  _ to kill herself but,” She gulps. “but I definitely think she didn’t care if she died. When I first moved here, Cat was her usual self. But after a while,” She lets out a dry laugh, completely devoid of humor. “It started to break down. Her bubbliness, or whatever, seemed fake.”

You stare at your sub like it’s the first one you’ve ever seen, but you don’t eat either. You listen.

“Jade aggravated everything Cat was already dealing with. That's why Jade hates me, cuz I convinced Cat to break it off. It wasn't good for her. But then it got worse. She was like,” She shrugs. “Self destructive? She was just,” Tori sweeps her hand in a zigzag motion. “Moving through people.” She hurriedly adds, “Only three, including Jade.”

Tori shakes her head. “But, you know. I was also the one that convinced her to go to therapy. It seemed like everyone else was okay with her fake happiness. She looked like she was trying too hard to me. And then uh, some time after that, like a year, you came.”

You both make eye contact. “I just don't get why she hasn't told me any of this?” Your voice is hoarse, like you haven't spoken in years. You rub the back of your neck.

“Well, how much have you told her about your past?”

You grimace, looking away, your hand freezing on your nape.

Tori stares at you now, like she's searching for something. Her mouth twitches.

“I think you and Cat have a lot of things in common.” She says with finality. It suddenly feels like she's so much older than you are, though you're sure you're her senior. For a moment, she stops feeling like Cat’s annoying friend. “And I don't know what you think and I don't know why you're doing whatever, obviously I'm not psychic.” She's trying to get you to look at her, but you won't. She bites her lip. “But you should feel good enough. I don't know who told you-”

And you never get to hear the rest of Tori’s sentence, and the walls that felt like were closing in never reach you, because Andre and Cat burst in the front door and the scene is broken. 

Tori should really start locking her door. 

“We're back!” Andre announces, throwing his keys to the side table. 

You stand up, facing Cat. You don't know why, but you're so happy to see her you could almost cry. You don't, but you feel the rise in your chest. You open your arms without thinking as she bounds over to you. 

“Attack hug!” She yells, jumping right into you.

You smirk. “Does it count as an attack if I watched you jump over to me?”

Cat laughs, but it's not loud, and almost private. “I really just wanted to see if you'd catch me.” She frowns. “I haven't seen you like all day. I missed you. Did you miss me?”

You can't hear because you're focused on both the girl in your arms and trying to keep a smile from overtaking your face and ratting you out, but maybe two feet away from you, at most, Tori and Andre whisper to each other, glaring at the two of you. 

“why are they like this why won't they just date” Andre breathes, trying to keep his voice low. 

Tori nods vehemently. “I know like this is actually traumatic they are traumatizing me right now”

You put your hand over Cat’s face. You feel her frown under your palm. “You betcha.” You laugh.

Tori has had enough. “Since you guys are here, do you wanna play video games?” She announces loudly, and you remember that she and Andre were present. You clear your throat, putting Cat down.

“I just got the new Mega Crash Bros.” She continues, drawing the last word out in an attempt to entice.

“Sick! I've been wanting to play that!” Andre responds first, jumping over the back of the couch and landing on its cushions with a plop. You guess that decides that you're all staying, and you mimic his ascent and prompt descent. Cat runs around the couch and dives into the seat next to you, like she's impersonating a baseball player sliding into home. 

“Sick!” Tori repeats, moving to her entertainment center and setting up her Whimtendo. She tosses controllers over her shoulder that you all catch.

You don't know how Tori keeps managing to do this. Maybe she only pretends to be dumb but is actually an evil mastermind. Because, yet again, you are choosing to stay in her presence. Or, maybe you are just kidding yourself and you actually like Tori.

No. It couldn't be that. 

She has to be a mind controller or something.

She sits down on the end of the couch, next to Robbie, with the final controller in her hand. “Alright, you guys are about to get destroyed, because I've had way more time to play this than you.”

You're about to make a snarky comment about how Tori probably couldn't even beat a six year old, but as you open your mouth, Cat yells, “YOU'RE GOING DOWN, TORI,” and you laugh, figuring that's enough for smack talk. It could've had a little bit more color, but it'll do for the mean time. You would have plenty of opportunities once the game actually started. You had heard of real friendships ending over Crash Bros. 

The game starts innocently enough, with the title superimposed onto a moving island. There is no foreshadowing of the hostility that is to come, one that is going to have to you all yelling into the night, and one that is going to have you make threats of actual physical violence against your peers.

Tori is going to beat you. A lot. And you're going to want to kill her, and say so. Andre will parrot how he was “THIS CLOSE” to winning each round. Cat is going to come out of nowhere around 10:15, when your voice is hoarse, and demolish you all for several matches in a row. And you will win a few times, but you will throw your controller across the room even more. And close to eleven, you'll be too cozy with Cat, and Tori will look to you, with the lights of the game flickering off her face in the dark room. You'll flip her off. Whatever closeness you might have gotten to earlier will be gone after the twentieth time you've watched your character die at her hands.

 

* * *

 

It's late when you make it back home. Cat walks in before you, but you hesitate at the door, staring at your reflection in your helmet and how it distorts when you turn it.

The jovial atmosphere that traveled home with you from Tori’s house dissipates easily. Usually, you didn't let things weigh on you. Or, at least, you didn't acknowledge them. But this, it seems, as soon as you have a quiet moment, hurries to the forefront of your mind, glaring and buzzing like an ominous neon light. 

“Hey, Cat.” You cough. It feels like smoke in your throat. It burns.

“Hmm?” She faces you, tilting her head in curiosity. She looks very much like the human version of her namesake. Or more like, a kitten. Either way, you wonder why you’re so compelled to bring her back to a place where she can’t look as carefree as she does now. 

“Why don’t I know anything about you?”

Her nose scrunches up, and then she looks to side as if trying to remember something. “Well, my fav-”

“I don’t mean stuff like that.” It’s not your intention to cut her off. “I know your favorite color is baby blue, even though everyone thinks it’s pink, but pink is just your power color. And I know you can play almost every instrument and you’re best at piano, but you like playing drums the most. And  _ I know  _ that whenever we go grocery shopping you steal grapes. But then you feel bad so you buy a bag of grapes and replace all the ones that you ate. I know stuff like that. I mean,” You don’t know why you need to know so badly. You smell lightning in your nose. “Why did you want to kill yourself before?”

Where you expect an awkward lull, there isn’t one. Instead, Cat comes forward, grabbing your hand in hers, and you can’t stop the slight jump that passes through your body.  “You know how you got bad before you came here?”

You nod solemnly. It’s like all of your body’s autonomous operations cut off suddenly, and you’re aware of  _ Breathe. Gulp. Blink. _

“It's the same.”

You nod again, understanding exactly what she means. It makes your chest tighten because you know it so well. The corner of her lips turn up, but only in a mimicry of a smile, her eyes too sad to make you believe her, as she squeezes your hand. You squeeze back, and her smile manages to become even more melancholy, gazing down at the union of your hands.

She slips from your grasp and starts toward the closet. 

“Wait, Cat! Don’t put your helmet away!”

She turns back to you, face confused, and her fingers loosely gripping her helmet that matched yours. They weren’t the same color, hers pink and yours black, but at the mall, when you decided to buy a new helmet, she convinced you to get matching styles and puppy decals. To this day you don’t know why you said yes.

“It’s only like midnight. Let’s go back out and ride around.”

Her smile is genuine this time, and as she gracelessly shoves her helmet back on, it spreads to you. 

You hold your hand out for her to take.


	8. if only you could see into me

They say your life flashes before your eyes as you die.

 

Well, you don’t know who “they” are, and you have a vendetta against them for all their stupid sayings, but you think this one might be true.

 

You’re careening through the air, and all you can think about is that you can see your house from here. It’s almost graceful, your body twisting in the atmosphere, like a gymnast trying to stick a landing.

Everything is happening in slow motion. You don’t know how long you’ve been falling. Maybe ten minutes? Ironically, this feels like the only genuine time in your life where you can have uninterrupted thought. You can’t do anything else but fall and stare at your house, and everything is so quiet and slow. It feels meditative, your own breathing being the only thing that reaches your ears.

Blinking is disorienting, because every closed eye is an image of Cat, and every open eye is your unwavering staredown with your own house.

How did you get here?

You shut your eyes to think. Cat is still there.

You were coming back from the store. Because of Cat. You wanted to do something nice to thank her for always putting up with you. She ran out of vitamins and you offered to grab more, insisting she stay home. You didn’t want her to see what else you were going to get her.

And now you were going to die.

You manage to tear your eyeline away from your home (that is honestly  _ so close _ ) and see your backpack, filled with some of Cat’s favorite things, flying away from you. In the same direction as your motorcycle.

You had been coming through the intersection, the light before the street that would take you to your apartment, where you and Cat live.

Someone ran a red light. You were already through, but it was close enough that they clipped the very end of your back tire, and that was all that was needed to send you spiraling.

You glare at your home, as if your will alone can bring it closer. Your eyes sting.

You’re going to die. And Cat didn’t even know.

Your house is literally right FUCKING THERE. And you’re going to die. Out here. And Cat wouldn’t know.

 

You feel selfish twice. The first is because, though you’ve had,  _ at least _ , a couple of significant people in your life, your mind only flashes to that of Cat. The second time, is because all you can focus on is how soft her lips must feel, and how regrettable it is that you never got to taste them.

You see them part around her teeth as she smiles at you. The smile that you never really deserved. And the smile that you will never see again.

You are going to leave her alone.

_ You can’t. _

Those eyes, like endless pools. The color of earth. They smile too.

You should’ve held onto her tighter when she lay next to you.

  
  


You hit the ground with a thud that sounds worse than it is. Someone is already jumping out of their car, and their footsteps slapping against the pavement is the first noise you hear.

“Oh my God! Are you okay?” They shriek, coming close to you.

You don’t know. You definitely don’t think you should feel okay, but you can’t really feel anything. You do realize that half your vision is in color without a dark tint, and that means your face shield is broken.

You push yourself up off the street. It’s a lot easier than you think it should be. The person behind you is freaking out, screaming something about your leg and the license plate number of the car that hit you.

When they reach to down to tell you you probably shouldn't be standing, you grab them to pull yourself up. Their voice reaches a whole new octave but you aren't listening as you put your entire weight on them. They are simply a resource to climb up until you're on your own two feet. You never move your eyes from your house, you don't even know what they look like.

It feels like you're floating, since you can't feel your body, but you don't move fast like you are.

Your friend in crisis grabs onto your shoulder. You stumble a little when you push them off.

“I have to-” You have to choose between talking or moving, you don't have the energy for both at the same time. Your right leg wants to drag on the ground, but you take sure, if not slow, steps. You tear your helmet off your head. “My-” You have to say something, so they'll stop trying to prevent you from walking. “Cat.”

“Your cat?” And their voice is confused, you do not have them convinced. They think you’re risking your well being for a pet. You hear them behind you, coming closer, like they might grab you again. “Look, I got the license plate number of the car that hit you so-kid! Hey, kid, stop!”

You limp as fast as your body is able to. “My house.” You point. “Bring it... over there.” You really don’t know why you’re even trying to explain to them. You’re wasting both the very little breath and energy you have. “Give me… five minutes.”

They frown, but their eyes relent, not that you bother turning around to see any of this. Nor do you hear them mumbling, “Okay, five fucking minutes, you lunatic. This kid is about to fucking die, and she just cares about getting to her cat.  _ Five fucking minutes.  _ Okay.” They didn’t really have a choice, seeing as you were blindly determined to kill yourself, and there was very little they could do to stop you anyway.

You finally notice the way your clothes stick to you. Your outfit was too dark for you to see the blood. You also notice the (thankfully not very big) hole that has been worn into your leather jacket on your right forearm. You don’t let yourself notice the top layer of skin that has been rubbed off there. You will let yourself feel the pain of that one later.

If there is a later.

It probably takes you the duration of the five minutes to actually make it to your apartment. You glance over your shoulder at the everyday hero, and they meet your gaze, gripping their phone tightly in their hand. They grimace, their whole face taut with stress, but they look away. They already gave you five minutes, what’s another two?

You feel bad. 

But if you were going to die, you had something to do.

Though they seemed nice, you didn’t want to spend your last moments with them.

The thought of leaving Cat alone brings a nausea to your stomach that almost knocks you off of already unsteady feet. Only a few days ago you promised to never leave. But if you have to do it, you can't go without telling Cat how much you love her.

_ You wasted so much time. _

During the replaying of your memories, you saw every time you could've said it. Every time you felt it make your tongue itch so you ran it against the back of your teeth. Every time it made your palms burn.

Your head feels foggy. Your eyes feel watery.

You slam into the sliding glass door.

Cat sees you immediately, the crash alerting her from her place on the couch. She jumps up, her face warped in horror. Her bottom lip trembles. “Sam?”

It’s something out of a zombie movie. You leaned up against the door, staining the glass with your blood. You don’t even have mental capacity to open it on your own. Your eyes flutter.

She’s frozen at first, shock gluing her feet to their place on the floor. 

“Cat. Please.” You make the motion with your mouth but the sound barely comes out.

The word you never used snaps her out of her stunned haze. She rushes over to you, throwing the door open, tears flowing freely now.

“Cat.” You say again, and you don’t know why it seems to be the only word that can come to your lips with ease. Your body gives out without the glass to support you and you fall into your apartment. She tries to catch you but she’s almost as much of a mess as you are right now, and you’ve always been surprisingly heavy.

"Oh my god, Sam!" She moves your head into her lap.

You gaze up at her. Yeah, sure, she’s crying a lot and breathing hard, but you feel the warmth of her body and her hands on your face, and you don’t mind this being the last thing you see."Cat, listen-" You're losing a lot of blood. Fast. You're fading in and out of consciousness. 

"Sam, you're hurt!" She’s hysterical, eyes frantically looking over your body. Her tears fall onto your face. It’s weird how hot they are, like they’re searing you.

"I know. But I need to tell you something-"  _ Goodbye, Cat. _

"We need to get you to the hospital!" She’s not listening.

"No hospitals! I hate hospitals!" Fuck, when did you start crying?

"You might need stitches!"

You grab her shoulders firmly, summoning all the energy you have left in your current state.  _ Not alone without- _ "Cat, I-"

Hey! Who turned out all the lights?

Oh wait, that's just you. You've passed out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aha a CLIFFHANGER  
> smash the mothafuggen comment or Sam gets it (I'll NEVER post the NEXT CHAPTER THIS IS A HOLD UP)


End file.
